After the fiery heights of peak autumn, the season is fading away gradually here in Boston, with a long tail of misty mornings, bronzed and barren treetops, and winnowing light from late sunrises. Along my various rambles, I watch as the city settles into a mood that feels strangely familiar, evoking, as it does, long-past memories from many Novembers ago. I’m trying to bring those memories forward, to merge them with the present, to feel grounded and safe, to say, “This is where I am. I know this place.” “This is where Jane and I did so-and-so on such-and-such day.” “This is where I felt such-and-such and learned this-and-that".” But, try as I might, those memories and feelings barely have a chance to surface before I turn my head - and they’re lost again.
It happens often now. Truth be told, I’m not just turning here and there - I’m spinning. The pandemic is still raging. I’ve got my head down in a spiritual sense, pouring myself into my work and my immediate surroundings and not much else (thank goodness I find my work meaningful and fruitful and fulfilling). So much has changed, is changing, that I find myself struggling to recall the boy that made semiannual trips to Boston over a decade ago, or to tell people where exactly I’m from, or where precisely I’m going. Moments of genuine connection are rare and always precious; they make me silent and grateful. I can tell that Jane is a bit perplexed by all this, concerned when I ask her to leave me alone for a night (at the opposite end of our little one-bedroom apartment), or to let me wander into the city on my own. It occurs to me that I’m searching for something that no one else can provide for me, or find or craft or discover in my stead. A sense of belonging. A still frame, with my heart at its center. A place or a thing or a feeling to call home.
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Mild weather has given us the opportunity to explore or re-visit a variety of locations throughout the state as the season draws to a close. In order, the photographs here are from:
November 8, 2020: A morning ramble around the dike and marshlands at the Great Meadows National Wildlife Refuge section in Concord. I nearly leave my tripod behind, in a muddy bank along the Concord River. We stroll through the local woods and visit the graves of Thoreau and Emerson, catching the last of fall’s vibrant colors.
November 21, 2020: A brief stroll around the Harold B. Clark Town Forest - a small pondside woodland near Foxborough. Afterward we make some purchases and returns at the nearby Bass Pro Shops Outdoor World. Our foldeable canoe has arrived in the mail - too late to be comfortably used this season.
November 28, 2020: A few shots taken just a block away from our apartment building, in a marvelous grove of beech trees which has fast become my favorite spot in the city. The majestic, curving trunks and leaf-laden boughs create a lovely space to get lost in during the warmer months, and even now, they retain the aura of a special place.
November 29, 2020: A sunset walk at the Cutler Park Reservation in Needham. A popular place for a post-Thanksgiving Sunday outing, as evidenced by the crowded parking lot. We amble through marshes and pine groves along the middle reaches of the Charles River, and watch the swans float placidly on Kendrick Pond.
December 13, 2020: An attempted golden-hour visit to the Great Marsh in Essex and re-visit to Beverly’s West Beach. High tide and sunrise only coincide here once or twice a month, and unfortunately we’re greeted this morning by fog and rain. I try to make lemonade with some abstract long exposures of the ruined jetty in the mist.
