Category: The Friendly City
A blustery day, blue and silver and black and white. A sky of smoke and metal, constantly in motion, the clouds dark as charcoal in the center but ringed with a blazing platinum glow.
Do you know the entrance to the forest?
I call this slope at Westover Park the Wood Between the Worlds for these qualities: stillness, silence, and symmetry.
Today I’m thinking about the authenticity of little things.
Extreme brightness of January sun. Is it possible to walk off sorrow?
For the past few years, winter in the Friendly City has been mild, the holiday season almost balmy. How enchanting, then, to wake and find the street transformed into one of those blue globes enclosing a snowy scene!
On a morning of fog, the trees gray with frost after the ice storm, I’m wondering: What is a city?
Anyone can write about a large city—large cities are open to everyone—but small cities can only be portrayed by people who love them.