franklin hill turn around
14 degrees / feels like 3
A few hours before I went out, it started snowing, a dusting. Decided to wear my yak trak, which helped a lot. A little harder to breathe this morning with the cold. Everything else about the run was great. All white and quiet and soft. For the first 10 minutes of my run, I was all alone. Gradually, I began to notice others: a walker, a fat tire, a runner wearing a bright yellow shirt.
Today, I devoted a lot of attention to the river. For stretches, it was almost completely covered with snow, then half snow/ice, half open water. Under the bridges, the river opened up — a dark, gaping mouth. The contrast between the open water, which was almost black, and the white, iced-over water was striking.
10 Things I Noticed
- The smell of toast and eggs, probably coming from Longfellow Grill
- The smell of pot, somewhere below me?
- There was a steady stream of cars on the river road
- Running under the bridges, the trucks and other big vehicles rumbled above
- The snow was flying into my face no matter which direction I turned
- Someone had stenciled “Can’t Wait! Hugz” in pink 4 or 5 times on the back of a west river parkway sign
- All but one of the sets of stairs leading down into the gorge was blocked off with a heavy chain. The only open one was at the final set of stairs before you reach franklin avenue
- A car passed, windows shut, blasting music with a booming, driving beat
- Cars were moving slowly, cautiously on the slick streets
- The fake flowers stuck in the remnant of a railing at the trestle are gone
It’s the solstice today. Here’s a poem posted on twitter:
Holiday Wish/ David Baker
No snow. A little fog. The afternoon
is a few short hours and evening falls.
But look how the sun hangs down
its old rope good for one more pull.
Look at the latticework of leaves
in the stricken ash, golden in the gray,
like coins in a purse or notes from some old hymn.
I hope my friends are warm this day.
I hope the ones I love, will always love—
the one gone far away, the two sweet
souls holding hands near the end,
humming through a feverish night,
the one whose needs I cannot guess
of have no needs this lucky day
on earth—I hope for them, for all of us,
a little peace, a touch of hope, another day
come round with steady light. So quiet now.
So still. A flake of snow, then two.
I hope you hear a bell from far away
begin to peal, a bell I pull for you.