Boston was beautiful.
On Christmas Eve we watched The Nutcracker by the Boston Ballet. What a treat. By this stage, after our long drive North and three days experiencing what is the hurly-burly of New York before Christmas, we needed to slow down. We headed to the North End Italian Quarter for a big bowl of pasta. The perfect Christmas Eve dinner tradition. Our tummies quickly filled up and we began to digest the holiday.
On Christmas day the city was quiet and the air was cold. Really cold. We took the day slow, enjoying each others company – eating, walking and eating some more.
On Boxing day it snowed. I couldn’t have been happier. The city woke up and it was the perfect opportunity to bundle up and wander the streets of Beacon Hill, to ice skate on The Frog Pond, to venture to South End and eat a post Christmas cup cake at South End Buttery and to hunt for the perfect wine & cheese at Formaggio.
I loved the way the season was celebrated here. It seemed as though every door and lamp post was adorned with hand made wreaths and swags – giving evergreen & appeal to the dead of winter. And just as we left, the sky cleared and the sun came out. As though the entire snowy Christmas holiday was a secret.
It was a very special Christmas. We were far from our homes, but relished the comfort and slow pace that Christmas in Boston gave us. This – our wintry, northern Christmas – felt right.