Category: The Friendly City

There is a forest near my house, but I’ve never walked there. I can see it from the bike path that branches off from Third Street, where I often stroll, but a fence separates me from the dense trees that beckon across the distance, raising their rusty branches against the ashen sky.

You’d heard that it was possible in the city, in the autumn and winter months, to see the murmuration of starlings at dawn and dusk: the birds flocking together in a wavelike motion, making dazzling patterns in the sky to the rhythmic murmur of wings.

Evelyn Byrd Nelson Page. Evelyn Byrd Page Lee. Evelyn Byrd Beverly Lee. Evelyn Byrd Page Wood. The name proliferated, rising through history like an unquiet spirit.

A woman comes striding toward me, bearing two onions in her outstretched hand. Like a personification of the season, she passes me with a jaunty step, her face gilded with light and an expression of unrestrained joy.

The city speaks through its signs. Can you hear it? We Went Solar; So Can You. Mutt-urity Matters: Adopt or Foster an Adult Dog.

Bowtie has finally entered the court!

The other day I was walking along College Avenue, a neighborhood I know well in all its seasons, when a perfectly unfamiliar house suddenly loomed up on one side of the street.