I love logging in each morning to see what gorgeous picture Bing has dropped onto my desktop. They never disappoint. But today’s image stopped me in my tracks — a green sea turtle gliding through clear blue water.
Why so special? Because I actually swam with them in Hawaii. Their eyes are beautiful, and I know it sounds silly, but I think their little beaked faces are just adorable. Just saying.
snuba at Turtletown 2020
Funny how a desktop picture can bring back a whole wave of happiness.
Cherry blossom season in Boston is one of those blink‑and‑you‑miss‑it treasures. The blooms don’t linger long, but while they’re here, the city feels softer, sweeter, and just a little more magical. We may not have a national cherry blossom festival like Washington, D.C., but we do have pockets of pink that are every bit as lovely — and far easier to reach.
If you’re already in a spring mood (and who isn’t by late March?), here are the best places to catch Boston’s cherry trees in full blush.
The Arboretum is the crown jewel of Boston blossoms. Everyone knows about the lilacs — and yes, they deserve their fame — but the cherry trees quietly steal the show in late April.
Winding paths, rolling hills, and clusters of cherry trees make this a perfect spot for a slow, fragrant wander. The Arboretum’s size means you can always find a peaceful corner, even on busy weekends.
Why go:
If you want to stroll under a canopy of petals, this is the place to start.
The Esplanade is a springtime dream. Cherry trees line the river, creating postcard‑worthy views with the water sparkling behind them. On a sunny day, the blossoms practically glow.
Why go:
This is one of those spots where you suddenly remember why you put up with New England winters.
The Public Garden is iconic year‑round, but in cherry blossom season it becomes downright romantic. Blossoms frame the lagoon, swan boats glide by, and the willows add their own soft green curtain to the scene.
Why go:
It’s the kind of place where you can sit on a bench and feel like you’ve stepped into a painting.
If you prefer your blossoms with a quieter, more local vibe, the Fens is your spot. Cherry trees bloom along the paths and near the historic stone bridges, giving the whole area a gentle, early‑spring charm.
Why go:
A great choice for people who like their spring strolls peaceful.
Just outside Boston proper, but absolutely worth the short hop. Brookline always feels like a softer, quieter cousin to the city, and the cherry blossoms fit right in.
Why go:
It’s a perfect “bonus stop” if you’re already exploring the area.
Boston’s cherry blossoms typically bloom late April to early May, though Mother Nature likes to keep us guessing. A warm spell can hurry things along; a cold snap can slow them down.
If you’re local, the best strategy is simple:
Take a walk. Let the trees surprise you.
Spring in New England never tiptoes in quietly. It arrives in a burst of color, fragrance, and that unmistakable feeling that the world is waking up again. As the old saying goes, “April showers bring May flowers,” but around here the blooms don’t wait for May. They start popping up in April—sometimes even earlier if they’re feeling bold.
I started planning my flower excursions back in March so I wouldn’t miss even the tiniest daffodil peeking up from the soil. This year’s list includes some old favorites and a few new spots I’m excited to explore. Maybe you’ll find a place that catches your fancy too.
Doesn’t everyone love those quirky, sunshine‑yellow daffodils? National Daffodil Day may be celebrated on August 31, but judging by when these little charmers poke their heads out, that feels a bit late. I’ve seen daffodils shining through lingering snowbanks—true New Englanders through and through.
Peak daffodil season here usually hits around mid‑April. If you want to be surrounded by golden waves, two standout spots are:
Both offer sweeping displays that feel like stepping into a spring postcard.
🌷 Tulips: A Short‑Lived but Spectacular ShowWe may not be Holland, but we certainly try to give the Dutch a run for their money. Here in Taunton, tulips decorate the Taunton Green each spring, circling statues and monuments along Route 44. They don’t last long—blink and you’ll miss them—so timing is everything.
For a more immersive tulip experience, head to:
This U‑Pick farm runs from late April to early May. Tickets are required (entries are timed to keep the fields peaceful), and each ticket includes 10 tulips to take home. It’s a spring ritual worth making room for.
By mid‑June, roses take center stage and keep the flower season rolling. If you’re a rose lover, you owe yourself a trip to:
This is the first municipal rose garden in the United States, and it shows. Greenhouses, nature walks, rock gardens, and thousands of roses create a dreamy landscape. Their spring greenhouse displays also feature daffodils, tulips, and other seasonal favorites—so even if you arrive before peak rose season, there’s still plenty to enjoy.
Now we come to my personal favorite:
The Arnold Arboretum — Boston, MA
Part of Harvard University, this 281‑acre oasis is a springtime treasure. Around Mother’s Day, the Arboretum celebrates the Lilac Bloom, and the air becomes saturated with that unmistakable lilac fragrance.
But here’s a delightful bonus:
You can also see cherry blossoms here. No need to trek to Washington, D.C.—unless you want the full Tidal Basin experience. My own attempt to see the D.C. cherry blossoms was frozen out by an ice storm, but the monuments were lovely. If we get an ice storm here, at least I won’t have to travel far to try again.
Spring is generous in New England, and there’s no shortage of gardens to explore. If you’re looking for alternatives—or just want to keep the flower fun going—these spots never disappoint:
Each offers its own charm, from curated landscapes to whimsical walking paths.
Spring is right on the edge of bursting open. A couple of warm days and the whole region will be glowing with color. Whether you’re chasing daffodils, tulips, lilacs, or roses, there’s something magical waiting just around the corner.
Let the flower adventures begin.
A Cross‑Country Daydream from Route 66 to Route 20**
With gas prices climbing and no relief in sight, it’s fair to wonder whether the classic American road trip is slowly becoming an endangered species. Then again, air travel isn’t exactly a walk in the park these days either.
Still, before we declare the road trip obsolete, it’s worth pausing to appreciate the romance, freedom, and pure Americana that grew out of our national love affair with the automobile.
One iconic road immediately comes to mind — and I’m pleased to say I’ve explored a small slice of it.
Route 66, the legendary “Mother Road,” was established in 1926 and stretched 2,448 miles from Chicago to Santa Monica. It wound through Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona, carrying generations of dreamers westward.
Though officially decommissioned, roughly 85% of the route is still drivable. Vintage neon signs, retro diners, quirky roadside attractions, and weathered motels still line the way, offering a nostalgic glimpse into a bygone era.
If Route 66 is the most famous, Route 20 is the heavyweight champion. At 3,365 miles, it’s the longest
road in the United States — and it starts right here in Boston.
A Route 20 adventure would take you through 12 states and across the entire country, ending in Newport, Oregon. Along the way, you could:
Then it’s onward through Pennsylvania and into Ohio, where Cedar Point awaits with some of the best roller coasters in the nation. Once you catch your breath, Route 20 rolls into Indiana and the Indiana Dunes National Park.
In Illinois, Route 20 carries you straight through Chicago before crossing the Mississippi River into Iowa.
Then comes Wyoming — Big Sky Country at its finest. You’ll pass through Lost Springs, the least populated municipality in America, and you’re just a side trip away from Yellowstone. Keep an eye out for bison; they don’t yield.
Montana only gets about ten miles of Route 20, but it’s close enough to tempt you toward the famous Going‑to‑the‑Sun Road, a bucket‑list drive if ever there was one.
Idaho brings a breather in Boise before the home stretch. The last state is Oregon, but don’t be fooled — there are still 451 miles to go before you reach Newport and the Pacific Ocean.
Quite the road trip indeed.
Once I’ve conquered Route 20, maybe I’ll head south to Florida for the Overseas Highway — 113 miles and 42 bridges ending at the Southernmost Point in Key West. A completely different kind of road trip, but just as iconic.
Maybe gas prices will rise. Maybe travel will keep changing. But the American road trip isn’t just about miles or money — it’s about freedom, curiosity, and the irresistible pull of the horizon.
As long as there are roads to follow and stories to chase, I don’t think the great American road trip is going anywhere.
Every so often, a story comes along that feels like it wandered straight out of a folk tale. Fiona — the sheep who survived more than two years stranded at the base of a cliff in the Scottish Highlands — is one of those stories. She became a national fascination, a symbol of quiet endurance, and eventually the star of one of the most dramatic animal rescues in recent memory.
But the biggest question, the one even the rescuers still shrug over, is this:
How did she get down there in the first place?
It’s the kind of bizarre animal mystery that feels straight out of my post on unusual wildlife facts — nature always finds new ways to surprise us
Fiona was first spotted in 2021 by a kayaker paddling along the Moray Firth. She was alone on a narrow strip of rocky shoreline, with an 820‑foot cliff rising straight up behind her. When the same kayaker returned in 2023 and found Fiona still there — heavier, woollier, and very much alive — it became clear she hadn’t left that spot in years.
The cliffs are nearly vertical. Boats can’t land safely. Herding dogs couldn’t reach her. So how could a sheep end up there at all?
The most accepted theory is that she didn’t fall from the top — she likely wandered onto a sloping section of cliff or a narrow sheep path and slipped down gradually, scrambling from ledge to ledge until she reached the bottom. Once she was down there, she was trapped. Too steep to climb up, too rocky to escape by sea.
Could she have survived a full fall? Unlikely. Sheep are tough, but not that tough. A slow slide or misstep on unstable ground makes far more sense.
However she arrived, she stayed. For more than two years.
What makes Fiona’s story so astonishing is not just that she lived — but that she lived well.
She had:
When rescuers finally reached her, they found a sheep who was overweight, overgrown, and overdue for a haircut — but otherwise in remarkable condition.
Fiona Needs a Haircut..
In November 2023, a team of farmers and a sheep shearer named Cammy Wilson decided they couldn’t leave her there any longer. Using ropes, climbing gear, and a winch system, they descended the cliff, found Fiona in her cave, and hauled her up the 250‑meter slope.
Her fleece alone weighed about 20 pounds.
Her spirit, somehow, weighed nothing at all.
Here’s where Fiona’s story shifts from survival tale to something much sweeter.
Once she arrived at Dalscone Farm Park, she didn’t retreat or shut down. She didn’t become skittish or withdrawn. Instead, she eased herself back into the rhythm of flock life — something sheep rely on for emotional stability. Sheep are herd animals to their core; they need the presence of others to feel safe. The fact that Fiona’s mental health survived two years of total isolation is almost as miraculous as her physical survival.
And then came the surprise no one expected.
For a sheep who spent years without another of her kind in sight, the image of her standing in a peaceful
pasture with two lambs pressed against her side feels like the universe giving her back everything she lost.
Today, Fiona has:
Her story began on a desolate shoreline, but it ends in sunlight, safety, and the soft murmur of a flock around her.
A lonely life rewritten into a peaceful one.