So I've had the good luck to be able to sleep a great many nights recently in the company of the sweet dog Mia in a cute apartment to myself a few steps away from the Boston Public Gardens and the Esplanade. Staying here, beyond being a nice reflective time to myself, has also made me view the city that I live in as a tourist. I would guess that more than 90% of the daily amblers through the gardens are foreigners, appreciating the city that we all forget to.
In my time walking Mia I've had the chance to see the many flowers, statues and fountains that actually make Boston a worthy place to visit. We have such beautiful space here! Who knew!
And my most favorite observation is the replenishing fruit basket in the stunning angel statue on the corner of Beacon and Arlington. Maybe once a week a mysterious person or persons (or God himself) fill her empty basket with fresh fruit and veg.
The first time I saw the fruit I thought it odd that I hadn't noticed it before, and odder still that it looked so real in comparison to the bronzed woman of the heavens. The next day though, the fruit was gone. I was confused, and a little disappointed by what I considered a child's harmless prank.
Another week later and the fruit reappeared, and disappeared yet again. This was one fiber starved angel.
This morning Mia stubbornly woke me at the rough hour of 6:30, rougher still after a post-3 am bed time. Anyway, this morning her basket was full of apples and a yellow pepper and perhaps a pear.
It warms my heart to know that we live in a city and world that feeds angels.
3 comments:
Wow, hungry angels in my backyard, and I didn't know about it. Now I do.
Your beautiful image of her reminded me of a Longfellow poem I read years ago called Footsteps of Angels. I went back and checked it out.
It ends:
And she sits and gazes at me
With those deep and tender eyes,
Like the stars, so still and saint-like,
Looking downward from the skies.
Uttered not, yet comprehended,
Is the spirit's voiceless prayer,
Soft rebukes, in blessings ended,
Breathing from her lips of air.
Oh, though oft depressed and lonely,
All my fears are laid aside,
If I but remember only
Such as these have lived and died!
that's a really interestingly framed photograph. hey karen, where are you? i haven't seen you in years.
Garrett, beautiful poem! thanks!
Abbey, I miss you too. :)
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