I like to run at night, when the sun is on its way to the horizon line and I’ve inhaled a little bit of green smoke. The colors are all muted, burning, and romantic, and there is a feeling in the air that is not described well with words. There is something about running through these little neighborhoods that I will never tire of. Houses that were built 200 years ago still stand, some renovated, some starting to crack. Trees blossom and shed, leaving a colorful pattern in the streets. I’m trying to see life through these rose colored glasses of mine.
“I am going to try to pay attention to the spring. I am going to look around at all the flowers, and look up at the hectic trees. I am going to close my eyes and listen.” -Anne Lamott
Above: The ever-mysterious half door on Danforth Street
Above:…..and the intriguing Native American door
Above: Wrought iron pineapple stair detail on a Park Street Row House
Above: Classic brick home in the West End. Enthralled by the straight axis of the fence, brick path lined with tulips, and the black entry way doors all on center, without the building being symmetrical.
Above: My absolute favorite time of the year, when all the trees turn pink with blossoms. Danforth Street
Above: Found this dude strutting around Gray Street. Got him to come up to me and sit in my lap, was purring the whole time. When I kept running, I looked back to find him sitting in the middle of the sidewalk, just staring at me. I like to think that we connected on a sub-human level.
Above: Look through little openings and you will find beautiful homes secluded back from the street with concrete dividers and overgrown vegetation.
Above: Look up. Look all around, you never know what you might find. Like a beautiful soft blue sky with decorated tree branches.
Above: This is where I ended up, on the Western Prom in Portland, Maine. Just in time for a cloudy but beautifully serene sunset.