Some Small Divinity

This was a short city loop with the Leica Q, just getting familiar with it—shooting wide open at 1.7, everything else on auto. I’m still figuring out how I want to carry gear on these walks. I was carrying my “light” pack, some Patagonia—I can’t remember the model. I have a Peak Design Capture attached to the backpack. Seems overkill for a city walk. I’ll need a stripped-down setup for these types of walks. By the way, I mention brands solely because I always want to know, to learn, what gear other people are using. Along those lines, I was listening to a podcast yesterday and someone mentioned that they don’t buy things, but they buy gear—gear needed toward their purpose, not just gear for gear’s sake. I like that thinking and will try to adopt it. The key part I took from this is gear with a purpose. This shuts out a lot of things I might buy. We’ll see how this works in practice.

I walked, with my wife, to a small, subdued neighborhood just outside of Harvard Square. The neighborhood felt calming in a purposeful way. It houses many of the buildings used by the Harvard Divinity School. Makes sense, right? It feels like they use more native plantings, a restrained scent—though like other parts of Harvard, the grounds were immaculate. Roller wheels from skateboards hum like a tiny airliner running down the street, and then the occasional assault of landscaping—like the actual airliners—to remind us we’re among the manufactured.

I found myself peeking into driveways, unconsciously collecting small portraits of routine—cars half-parked, hoses coiled, bins out. I might make something of that: “Driveway Peeking.” There are also many free mini libraries. Perhaps another collection idea. The only one I captured was blurry. Why not show some of the misses? Though there is something I like in the unintentionally blurry picture.

One tree—or was it a bush?—caught my attention: a bright fan of green at the tips, darkening toward the core. It reminded me of trees in Arcadia, outside my father’s village in Stemnitsa, where summer light slants through the leaves like stained glass. I snapped a shot and was told it was an arborvitae, and the trees that surround my father’s village are cypress.

I passed the Academy of Arts and Sciences again, a place I’ve still never entered. The grounds welcome walkers and dogs, but the building itself keeps its secrets. I must find a way inside. Stay tuned...