If I'm hoping, then I'm hoping for the frost
I am feeling non-stop terrible. I took a couple of pictures in the snow-fallen sunshine this afternoon.
Paperbark maple, peeling in snow.
The sky still too cold a blue for spring.
The dogwood's illusion of shadow.
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spatch sent me a 1957 study of walking directions to Scollay Square. Researcher's notes can be unnecessarily period-typical, but the respondents themselves are wonderful. "You're a regular question-box, aren't you?" It turns out to be part of the basis for a seminal work of urban planning and perception. I like the first draft of the public image of Boston, including its conclusion that it is a deficit to the city not to be thought of as defined by the harbor as much as the river.
Paperbark maple, peeling in snow.
The sky still too cold a blue for spring.
The dogwood's illusion of shadow.
spatch sent me a 1957 study of walking directions to Scollay Square. Researcher's notes can be unnecessarily period-typical, but the respondents themselves are wonderful. "You're a regular question-box, aren't you?" It turns out to be part of the basis for a seminal work of urban planning and perception. I like the first draft of the public image of Boston, including its conclusion that it is a deficit to the city not to be thought of as defined by the harbor as much as the river.