Boston has been beautiful this winter, my first “real” winter in 25 years. No doubt this was in part because I didn’t bring my car, and thus missed out on the dubious daily pleasure of digging one’s car out of a snowdrift, or fighting for the parking spot one has just cleared. But mostly it’s about memories: this winter has taken me right back to my childhood in the Midwest and my teenage years here on the East Coast: the wonder of waking up to see the world covered in white; remembering the way the deepening snow reflects light, but deadens sound, leading to days as eerily quiet as they are stunningly sunny; the warmth and crackle of a roaring fire while the snow silently falls outside the window (this last perhaps differentiated from my childhood by the presence of a fine glass of whisky or Armagnac). The winter would have been perfect had it not been for one mishap: slipping on a patch of ice on an otherwise beautiful long run, bruising or cracking my Continue reading ‘Able Grape West Coast Conference Tour’
