As a photographer, I practically live for these opportunities: historic mansions opening up their doors and gardens for the general public to nose around for the day. There's an annual fundraising event in northern New Jersey presented by the Women's Association for Morristown Medical Center called "Mansion in May." Each year, a different historic mansion in the area is selected as a showhouse for local designers and garden experts. Basically, they clear out whatever is inside and reimagine all of the rooms, taking them to a style I can only describe as "modern-day posh."
This year's Mansion in May was (and still is, for a few more days) Alnwick Hall (pronounced "ann-ick"), also called the Abbey, located in Morristown, New Jersey. Built between 1903 and 1904, it was the private residence of Edward Peter Meany, who became a millionaire during the late 1800's as a general counsel for the emerging telephone industry. His home is a well-preserved example of "Morristown's Golden Age."
Okay, history lesson aside, let me be honest with you: I wasn't there for the designer showhouse. While the rooms were all gorgeously dressed to the nines, I secretly wished they had just left the mansion as it was "back in the day." (I think this is what happens when you read too many novels by Edith Wharton and Henry James!) It was a little jarring to walk into this turn-of-the-century home and see a state-of-the-art foosball table and megasize flat-screen TV. But, that's just me. The place was overflowing with ooh-ing and ahh-ing designers and shoppers (there were boutiques set up on-site) who were obviously loving the mansion all dressed up for this festive May party.
Although I enjoyed looking up at the original ornate ceilings and stained glass windows, I couldn't wait to be done with the house tour so I could get outside to the gardens with my camera.
Let's face it, friends: I'm just a nature hippy, and flowers are much more my style!
Happy long holiday weekend to my stateside friends, and happy regular-sized weekend to my friends abroad!
P.S. If you haven't yet gotten your free, downloadable guide,Hey, How Did You Do That?! 20 Apps to Totally Transform Your Phone Photos, you still have time! It's the free gift when you sign up below for my monthly-ish photography letter, Writing with Light. That's also free, no spam ever, and you can unsubscribe whenever! Win all around...
The Garden State is looking remarkably like the Garden of Eden lately (minus the nude couple and that pesky serpent, of course). The month of May in northern New Jersey is really something beautiful to behold--even more so after the scars of last winter. (I'm still thawing out.)
The official state color right now is definitely pink...
Everybody is out and about, a little giddy with the splendid weather. Kids on new bikes; parents out for long strolls before nightfall; dogs rolling around on their backs in the sunny grass, just begging for belly-rubs.
We're all breathing in the blossomy air as if it were the sweetest perfume.
So, contrary to what you might think (due to some unmentionable "reality" TV shows), New Jersey really is a beautiful Garden State. And, with springtime springing up everywhere we look, it's even more so.
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Joyful update: On Tuesday, May 19, I'll be taking part in my second Twitter chat with BlogHer editors about how you can take more professional-looking pictures. Join me on Twitter at 1:00 EST on 5/19/15 and search #BlogHer #Experts. It'll be fun!
On principle alone, let me say that I have never watched (nor will I ever watch) "Jersey Shore" or "The Real Housewives of New Jersey." I like to think that I have a good sense of humor, but when it comes to New Jersey, I just can't join the pile-up. Even before Joe Piscopo made it a running joke years ago on SNL, New Jersey has been the punchline of countless jokes, and at the risk of sounding overly defensive, I'm here to tell you that after living here for nearly seven years, New Jersey's bad rap is largely undeserved.
I've spent more years of my life in Connecticut, New York (the long-time "enemy" of New Jersey), and Pennsylvania (like any other state, they all have their good and bad points), but as it looks like I'm here to stay, I'm going to defend my adopted home state. Every state has its negative stereotype, and yes, there may be slivers of truth in them. However, here are 10 things about New Jersey to celebrate:
1. Farms like Sun High Orchards. We live within 15 minutes of (at least) five really wonderful farms that spare us the generic blandness of supermarkets.
3. We get all four seasons distinctly, in pretty equal measure. Not too hot in spring, not too cold in fall, and the quiet beauty of snow when it's supposed to snow (for the most part).
6. Meryl Streep (Summit and Bernardsville), Anne Hathaway (Millburn), and Jack Nicholson (Neptune City and Spring Lake) all grew up here. Snooki did not.
7. Quaint towns with smart, un-Snooki-ish people, like Princeton, Mendham, and Chester.
8. Summertime means the very fattest blueberries, juiciest peaches, and super-sweet corn, grown at the local farms I mentioned in point #1.
9. Coming across deer, sheep, horses, goats, wild turkeys, pheasants, cows, llamas, and more wildlife than you can shake a stick at is a routine occurrence--as is going to a bustling town like Montclair or Morristown.
10. That's my back yard in the opening shot. Although I loved many things about my eleven years in New York City, having no yard and waking up to barred gates on my windows weren't two of them. So yes, I'm very grateful to have a beautiful, spacious yard with this view.
New Jersey pleasantly surprises me almost every day with its grace and beauty, and on that note, I just joined Pinterest last night, so I can continue to share images of "The Real New Jersey." To join me on Pinterest, click here. If the link doesn't work for you, you can search Pinterest for "JoyfullyGreener." (Joyfully Green was already taken...grrrr...) As a Pinterest newbie, I'm on a steep learning curve, but I hope to add my very favorite nature images there and I hope you'll join me.
It's been difficult to write this post. Not because we spent nine days without heat and electricity, but because millions of people in the Northeast are still struggling, far worse than we did, over a week later, from the wrath and the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy. In New Jersey today, eight days after the storm, 566,000 people are still without power, according to the latest news conference with the governor. We got off easy--we lost a couple of trees and a shutter blew off our house. We still had hot water, a gas stove, and use of our telephones. I would say that we were blessed, but I don't want to imply for a moment that others who were less fortunate weren't deserving of blessings. Instead, I will say that we are grateful for being back on the grid; we are hopeful for the full recovery of our region and its residents; we are thankful for everybody near and far who is helping out with repairs and disaster relief; and we send our deepest condolences to those families who lost lives, livelihoods, homes, and treasured belongings.
We are a bit wiser as a result of the hurricane. Here is what we learned (although much of it was simply reinforced):
1) Never take our energy resources for granted. If there's ever been a time to rethink our energy usage and habits--on a personal level, a national level, and a global level--it's when you're sitting in a cold, dark house, lit only with strategically placed candles and a weak fire in the fireplace, with two young children, who have cold noses and cold hands. It's when you're throwing out bags upon bags of foods that have gone bad in your freezer and feeling enormously guilty for the waste. It's when you're going to bed in three layers of clothing, under five blankets, with your children vigorously nuzzling against you, wearing their winter hats to bed and asking if you'll have heat tomorrow. When a natural disaster strikes, it really hits home that our non-renewable energy resources are fragile and precarious.
2) It's hard to ignore the climate crisis when you have three destructive storms within three years (two hurricanes, one blizzard in October--for the latter, see the post entitled "Appreciating Autumn"). A friend called to check in (we still had our land lines) and said he was taking an informal survey: Is the freakish weather a sign of our climate crisis, or just a fluke? You can guess how I voted. Al Gore, in An Inconvenient Truth, warns about the increased severity and occurences of natural disasters as a result of the worsening global warming crisis. (See the post entitled iPad Apps for Nature-Lovers for the app version of his book.) As an environmentalist, I've always been one of his supporters, so it's hard for me to understand those who write him off as a crackpot alarmist when we're experiencing firsthand the uptick of severe weather patterns.
3) We don't need as much as we think we need. When our freezer food was reduced to garbage, we realized that we shouldn't be stockpiling the freezer on a regular basis. In a natural disaster, that food is useless. We could still use our gas stove, so we salvaged what we could from the fridge and the coolers stored on the back porch, and then ate canned food. It made me think of how Europeans typically shop--they buy small quantities of fresh food a couple of times a week, and as my 100-year-old Aunt Ann says, "they don't make a hog of themselves."
A trip to the local supermarket after the hurricane was an eye-opening experience. The aisles were crowded with mountains of trash bags, full of fresh, frozen, meat, and dairy foods that couldn't be salvaged. The cashier told me they lost $5,000 in meat alone. (All of those animals giving up their lives for no good reason...sad.) The photo below is of poor quality because I snapped it on my phone and the store was dark, but I think you can still get the picture of how depressing the sight was. Those carts are all filled with food waste, and this was just one aisle of the store.
We also didn't need the racket of the news. It was actually a bit of a relief to have five days without any television or the internet, especially during this overheated political season. Our township called us each day to give emergency updates of what we really needed to know. Everything else that passes as "news" fell to the wayside. It was a strange feeling to be disconnected from the world at large, except at specific intervals (at the town's charging stations for cell phones and laptops).
We really got down to the basics of survival. What we really needed were candles, matches, firewood, canned and boxed food, and D batteries for flashlights. Aside from the firewood which ran a bit short, we were prepared this time around. We spent a lot of time as a family sitting around the fire, reading by flashlight, wearing our thickest sweaters, hats, and scarves. We all went to bed at the same time-- 9:00 p.m., which I don't think I've done since fourth grade. That part reminded me of "The Waltons." ("Good-night John-Boy. Good-night, Jim-Bob...")
4) Without television and electronics, you tap into your own creative resources. We really had to use our imaginations to distract the kids from the cold. We played lots of games about hibernating animals, so we could cuddle under blankets while pretending we were chipmunks or raccoons. When our kids were at each other's throats with cabin fever, I sent them to their rooms. Not out of punishment; just realizing they needed their own personal time to decompress and relax. I set up a "reading fort" for each of them, layering them with several blankets and providing a large selection of their favorite books.
We also had to creatively improvise for Halloween. For the second year in a row, Halloween was cancelled due to weather emergencies. (Update: Halloween in New Jersey was moved this year to November 5.) Our children typically start wearing their costumes the first week of September and don't really quit until well into spring, so this is a holiday they get really excited about. To make up for their disappointment, we set up Trick-or-Treating stations in the house. I was in the office and my husband was in the dining room, and the kids went back and forth, knocking on our respective doors for candy. It was really silly, and really funny, but it cured the dark doldrums for a spell.
5) We need to rethink our gas usage and vehicles. Fortunately, we had filled up our gas tanks for our two cars before the hurricane struck, because even eight days later, there are very long lines for gas in New Jersey, supervised by police. The state has mandated an odd-and-even day gasoline rationing system. Luckily, we haven't needed any gas yet. We've long been considering a hybrid car, and Hurricane Sandy has made us take those considerations much more seriously.
6) A community of friends, a network of strangers--everybody pulls together in times of crisis. Friends who had gotten their power back before us invited us over for hot meals. (We declined, as we were trying to eat our way through our salvageable food, and we could still heat it up.) Other friends offered sleepovers and the use of their washing machines. Long lines of cars honked their thanks for the electrical workers in a truck convoy from Georgia. Our township officials and staff not only had municipal buildings open for charging phones, but also provided free snacks, drinks, and reading materials for residents. We brought a supply of coloring books to one of the municipal buildings and the kids enjoyed a couple of hours of heat, light, hot cocoa, and cookies.
On a national level, it was also refreshing and surprising to finally see some government bipartisanship in action, as Governor Chris Christie and President Obama amicably supported each other during and after the storm.
7) Hard times magnify your sense of perspective. Although it was not easy being without heat or power, our neighborhood fared relatively well. A few people had enormous trees uprooted in their yards (with the mangled roots sticking up a good six or seven feet--incredible!), but they were thankful the trees hadn't hit their houses.
For those with houses that were hit by trees, they had only to look at the news from the coastal towns and Staten Island, where it was (and continues to be) much grimmer.
8) Appreciate what you have, while you have it, and conserve it. Enough said.
Each year, our school's Green Team carefully chooses a fundraiser that embodies our mission: Teaching our children that they can make meaningful choices in their everyday lives that make a measurable difference for the planet. When we encourage them to think of the bigger environmental picture, beyond their school walls and long after they've graduated, we're training them to be leaders and problem-solvers. The end goal is to help the students to think green and globally, all on their own. But the first steps are often right in the school cafeteria, where they can easily see the environmental mantra in practice: "Reduce, Reuse, Recycle."
This year, we've been fortunate to partner in our fundraising efforts with Jennifer Larsen, the creator and owner of Snackaby: environmentally friendly, reusable (and completely adorable!) snack and sandwich bags. This Columbia University-educated mom (she has one son currently in kindergarten) is now based in West Orange, New Jersey. We looked at several reusable lunch container companies for our fundraiser, but ultimately, we chose Jennifer's. Why? Because she's a local businessperson (who keeps the business entirely local) and her lunch containers were, hands-down, the most appealing in their designs. (They practically flew off the shelf in our first sale at school.) I've had several opportunities to sit down with Jennifer and discuss our personal and professional green missions. Here, she shares the story of Snackaby, her green roots, and how she makes positive choices for the planet every day.
Jennifer, what inspired you to start Snackaby?
It was the end of the summer in 2010 and I'd been experimenting with recycling materials into craft items. I had sewn a few little bags and was trying to figure out how to reuse things as well as how to use less plastic. Everything else in my son's lunchbox was reusable, except those little plastic baggies, which I needed sometimes.
Then I was at a playdate with my son, and my friend--the other mom--pulled out a little cotton snack bag she had bought at a store in Michigan. When I told her that I had just been trying to make an alternative to plastic baggies, we started brainstorming at how we could make a better one. We brought our sewing machines to our next few playdates!
After a few prototypes, experimenting with fabrics, and bringing our experiments to playgrounds to get feedback from moms and kids, we came up with Snackaby.
So this was a joint effort starting out. Tell me about your original partner in the business.
My partner in creating Snackaby is Jennifer Dowd, a mom who is incredibly creative and deeply committed to the green movement and to education. She has since left Snackaby to pursue a Master's degree in Public Administration, as well as her other projects in education and the green community.
What inspires you now from a business standpoint?
The inspiration was--and continues to be--to have a company that follows green principles. For example, it's tempting to want to have the labor done overseas when you see the price differences with domestic companies, especially at smaller quantities for a start-up. But we wanted the company to be sustainable and to put something back into the local economy. To do this, we shopped for everything locally. We chose a New Jersey-based bank; we have the sewing done by another small business, at a factory in Passaic; I buy labels from a shop on Etsy. And recently, one of our fabric companies has moved from Toronto to New Jersey.
That's really admirable to keep the entire process local instead of outsourcing to companies overseas. What else differentiates your product from your competitors?
Most other snack bags on the market have a cotton exterior, which means they are meant for the washing machine, whereas you can wash Snackaby in the dishwasher [top rack]. Ours are laminated on the outside, too, so they're easy to wipe off. The fabric is a laminated cotton on the outside (it does contain some plastic) and a food-safe laminate that is free of BPA, DEHP, phthalates, and plasticizers on the inside. I buy the interior fabric directly from the manufacturer, who does not outsource the formula, to ensure its integrity. I also use very little packaging and recycled envelopes to send out orders.
What's the biggest lesson you learned by starting a green business? Starting a green business is challenging because you're not only competing with others who are making your product, you're competing with those who source labor overseas, rather than locally. It makes pricing a real issue. One of the bigger brands is made completely overseas--from fabric to sewing to packaging. But know that when you pay more for a Snackaby, you are supporting not only our New Jersey-based business, but a local sewing factory, a local bank, a U.S. label company and a local fabric manufacturer.
Okay, so moving to the "green home" aspect: How do you pack a totally eco-conscious lunch for your son?
I use Snackabies for dry snacks--pretzels, chips, crackers--and not-so-dry snacks--strawberries, grapes, apple slices, and of course, sandwiches and wraps. We use reusable water bottles and I used to send flatware from home, but when the spoons weren't making it back, I went to Target, bought a small set of inexpensive stainless steel forks and spoons and now I use those. I do use some plastic containers--which I wash and reuse--because the school won't allow glass, which I can understand for kindergarten.
Complete this sentence: "My biggest challenge in being a green parent is..."
My biggest challenge in being a green parent is finding ways to cut down on food packaging. It kills me to buy a case of individually wrapped snacks and juice or water bottles when it's my turn to bring snacks to soccer, but I don't know of any good alternative, especially with the prevalence of food allergies. I'm trying to buy more food in bulk, like beans by the pound instead of beans in cans. Whole Foods has a good selection of bulk items. Snackabies work really well to make things "snack size" in our house.
I've really enjoyed working with you, learning from you, and sharing green ideas. Any closing thoughts?
"Green" is not something you are or you aren't, it's all about individual actions. We can all be green-er. In each situation we have choices and we can try to make the greener choice. It's not always possible, but often it is.
For more information on Snackaby or to order products, visit www.snackaby.etsy.com or email [email protected]. (HAMC parents: Order yours at school by October 31 for the fundraiser discount.)
It was another crisp, clear autumn day--much too pretty to stay inside--so when I picked up the kids from school, we headed straight out on an unplanned trip: Hacklebarney State Park in Chester, New Jersey. It's not far from us, it's free, it's gorgeous, and it's open year- round, so we visit frequently. It's also dog-friendly, so Delilah eagerly came along with us for the ride.
Surprisingly (given the fireworks of color in our own neighborhood this week), the leaves at Hacklebarney are still mostly green. But there were a few golden trees glinting in the sun...
...as well as a smattering of orange and red ones.
Being in full dress-up mode lately (Halloween right around the corner and all), Charlotte made this leaf into a makeshift mask:
Then the kids were off to explore the stream and waterfall, one of their favorite parts of Hacklebarney park. It's incredibly peaceful and meditative (even if you're a normally high-energy eight-year-old boy) to sit beside a stream as it burbles and meanders along through a forest.
It reminded me of a practice I keep coming across in my reading lately--something the Japanese call "Shinrin-yoku" or "forest bathing." It has nothing to do with actually getting wet--it's just about immersing yourself in the peacefulness of a forest, breathing in the scent of trees, as a way to cleanse your mind (and perhaps, as some studies suggest, boost your immune system). Turns out that I've been forest-bathing for over four decades now (see Beyond the Back Yard: The Roots of a Green Life.) It's definitely a practice I want to pass on to my children. Added benefit: It's the kind of "bathtime" they never seem to complain about.
After we'd had our "bath," we headed out of the park, once again seeing these wise words:
On our way home, we stopped at the nearby (and wonderful) Hacklebarney Farm (104 State Park Road in Chester, www.njcidermill.com), for their very own wood-pressed apple cider and homemade cinnamon donuts.
It was charming and cozy (the family of owners is also very friendly and helpful), and because it was late Friday afternoon, right before closing time, there wasn't even a crowd. Sweet!
Yesterday, it was the perfect September day--not too hot, not too cold--just nice and crisp, like an apple. So we headed to the local orchard after school.
You already know how much I love Sun High Orchards (see this post), so I surprised the kids by picking them up from the schoolbus and heading straight over to the farm. Of course, first, Charlotte needed to put on her pink princess skirt over her school pants. (Lately, she can't stand wearing pants and is all about the dresses and skirts. She's a very girly-girl. It's sweet.) There was something so pleasing and refreshing about being outdoors late on a September afternoon, wandering around leisurely, in search of the perfect apples.
Zachary was particularly proud whenever he found a really good one.
Charlotte needed to show me every single apple before she put it in her bag.
When we had collected our fill, we headed over to the animals' area to say hello.
I had never noticed before how a goat's eyes are like cats' eyes, but horizontal instead.
Once we got home, we realized that we went a bit crazy picking the apples. We really had a lot of them! But they were so pretty, like little sculptures.
Delilah doesn't know quite what to make out of them.
Maybe it's because it's summertime and I want to be outside every chance I get, but lately, I can't stand going to the supermarket. I've gotten my weekly supermarket visits down to a science, where I'm in and out of the store in 20 minutes, tops. I'm practically fleeing from the place. But there's another reason that I'm giving it the slip: I've discovered how infinitely better it is (for our tastebuds, our health, and the planet, of course) to buy all of our produce from local farms instead.
From a green standpoint, "eating locally" is a huge issue. Michael Pollan has explored the topic in his enlightening best-seller, The Omnivore's Dilemma. It's well worth a read if you haven't already picked it up, but one of the main points is this: Think about the time it takes for a piece of fruit to be picked, get loaded onto a truck, potentially travel through several states, and finally wind up in your supermarket, only to sit on the shelf for who-knows-how-long before it's purchased and eaten. How many gallons of gas did it take to get there? How much CO(2) was expelled from the tailpipe? Or did it have to fly around the world, expending jet fuel, to get to your store? (New Zealand apples, I'm looking at you.) How much plastic or styrofoam was manufactured for the packaging?
One of Pollan's other main points in the book is the astounding difference in taste between fresh-picked and store-bought. And that brings us to the astonishingly delicious scent of ripe summer fruit at Sun High Orchards of Randolph, NJ. When I was there this week, snapping these photos, the current owner-operator, Phil Green, told me that his father-in-law's father started the farm in 1945, and they've kept it in the family ever since. Hats off to them!
Instead of a supermarket with its generic atmosphere, white-bright-fluorescents, and too-chilly temperature, a trip to the farm is (quite literally) a breath of fresh air.
Instead of rows upon rows of neon cardboard boxes, plastic containers, and styrofoam trays, the shelves at Sun High look like this:
I felt like I had walked right into the movie, Paper Moon.
Instead of ho-hum fruit packaged in little clear plastic coffins (because as Pollan writes, it's long into the decaying process once it's in the supermarket), everywhere you look, you see glorious still-lifes of gorgeous produce. Just look at these little juicy guys below, all angling for their close-up...
There's something about produce that's not covered in plastic which makes it seem outrageously delicious (and it is). Most of the produce at Sun High is loose, so you can bring your own reusable bag and pack it all in, once it's weighed. Smaller fruits, such as blueberries and strawberries, come in cardboard cartons, and as the new recycling ad for NYC says, "If you can rip it, you can recycle it." Our town has finally started to accept almost all coded plastics for recycling (hallelujah!), but it takes more energy and creates more pollution to melt down plastic and make it into something else, so I'm sticking with the cartons if there's a choice. Plus, if they do wind up astray, they're biodegradable, unlike plastic (see my July entry entitled Road-Testing Reusable Lunch Containers.)
When I was done selecting my fruit, I headed outside to visit these two characters...
Alpaca: "You go, girlfriend!"
Donkey: "Mmmm...dry hay."
Then I headed homeward, happily, to feast!
Almost too pretty to eat. (I said almost.)
I can't give up the supermarket entirely, because Sun High doesn't carry things like milk, eggs, and cereal. But sorry, supermarket: You've lost my business in the produce department. It wasn't even close.
Sun High Orchards is located at 19 Canfield Avenue in Randolph, NJ. Open 7 days a week in summer from 9 am to 5 pm. Phone: 973-584-4734. Bring the kids and let them pick out their own fruits and veggies. Plus, there are plenty of farm animals to visit and feed. One final green note: The produce at Sun High is not organic, but you can use an all-natural spray like Veggie Wash to remove any residue.
Do you have a farm or farmer's market that you frequent? Please share the details in the Comments section below.
Remember in that old "Seinfeld" episode, when George Costanza and his father kept yelling for "Serenity Now!!!"? It's amazing how many times I think of that episode while I'm trying to come up with new activities for the kids--especially while they're busy practicing their favorite go-to activities: whining and teasing.
We've been experiencing a lot of record-heat days this summer in Northern New Jersey, so what's a cabin-feverish family to do on a Saturday afternoon when the temperature is hovering around the 95-degree mark? Go outside, of course! "Ugh," you say? We had our doubts, too, but found a surprisingly peaceful and cool respite in the form of the Frelinghuysen Arboretum. Located in Morris Plains, NJ, the Arboretum comprises 127 acres of woodlands, meadows, and gardens, with a Colonial Revival mansion at its center.
Thanks to all of the blissfully shaded areas, the kids got a chance to run around the garden paths and burn off some pent-up energy...
They also had time to stop and smell the flowers. There are thousands of them...
Almost all of the trees and plants are labeled, so you know what you're looking at. (See those little black signs in the middleground below? Most of the signs are bigger--don't worry.)
The kids' favorite part of the Arboretum was the Rock Labyrinth. When we read the map before heading off to it, I have to admit that I'd been picturing a maze with Stonehenge-size boulders, but the kids were happy with the labyrinth just the way it is...
While they spent a good half hour chasing each other around the labyrinth, I wandered around the grounds and found this bucolic scene:
The Jane Austen fan in me was picturing Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley coming around the bend on horseback, on their way to visit the Bennet sisters.
I've also become strangely obsessed with studying the bark of trees. I can't believe it took me 'til my forties to really look at all of the colors and textures, the nooks and crannies, in tree bark...
I know, I know...I'm such a nerdy tree-hugger!
Anyway, it was a lovely afternoon.
You can enjoy the Frelinghuysen Arboretum for free, but it's nice if you donate a few dollars at the Visitors' Center. Be generous and consider it a thank-you to the Arboretum for a refreshing interlude on an otherwise sweltering day. "Serenity Now," indeed.