Today was a rainy day. When I woke up, the sky was grey and by mid-afternoon a light drizzle had settled in, cozy in its new location. The trees have started turning here and the sidewalks were filled with nature’s confetti.
I’ve developed a “hankering” (to borrow a phrase from my days in the South) for walking – taking time to stop and appreciate the scenery as I meander through brick lined sidewalks. Today was no different except that I had a sidewalk lined with nature’s golden carpeting that was too soggy for me to enjoy a “crunch” underfoot but still beckoned to be treaded upon.
As I walked out the door of my office building, I experienced a moment’s hesitation – should I brave the rain and walk home (as I normally do) or stay dry and take the T with the rest of the masses. (The T is Boston’s subway…I’ll have to make note to post about this in the near future.) As I reached the critical “fork in the road” I opened up my DC art umbrella and decided to take a stroll through the rain. And boy, am I glad I did.
As an aside, my grandmother – Sally, we called her – liked to use the term “boy.” She was born in 1916 and grew up when the term had its heyday. I can actually hear her voice in my head saying “oh boy” as I type…I think she would have enjoyed Boston. (Note to self: does my family know if she ever visited?) But I digress…
The Public Garden was empty save for the ducks that huddled into themselves as they floated on a rainy pond.
And if you do stop to look…brave the wet…you might just spot a brilliant display peeking through the gloom. When I lived in DC I said, “I never want to lose the wonder I feel living here.” I didn’t, and I have the same feeling in Boston. I think I’m succeeding.