On our way to see the Daniel Chester French exhibit (hugely recommended, as is the restored fountain sculpture at the corner of the Public Garden), we walked through Boston Common and it was as busy as I’ve ever see it. Trio dressed up expertly as the Cat in the Hat and Thing One and Thing Two (constant photos and squealing, happy kids). A couple in full Kabuki costume acting a scene that was being filmed. A jaunty one-man band. A wedding party that radiated optimism. Willows daubed with precise streaks of yellow, shedding leaves like a soft rain. A four-piece folk band. At least three groups that had pitched tents and carried sleeping bags.
Plus hundreds of hammy, overfed squirrels that had the routine down: sit up, twitch tail, look like you expect to get a peanut — charge over if you see some fellow tree-rat already doing the routine and try to muscle in. The Boston Common Squirrels must run a Mafia-type operation that chases off any outsider that tries to horn in on the free food.
Last sunny afternoon in the 50s for a long time. All ages. All possible family configurations. I heard Spanish, Russian, French, Japanese. For a lengthy stroll, Boston felt like a model of diversity and civilization