Stillness Between the Steps

Leaving Davis Square, the ground still held the warmth and steam from the morning’s rain. There was a floral scent—milder than what you’d find around Harvard, maybe slightly more than by the Divinity School, but not as full as Cambridge streets around my house. The path itself felt naturally green, though I suspect some neighboring houses were contributing to the scent. The mix of sunlight and shade worked well—patches of brightness cutting through the cover, a perfect balance of shade and sunlight.

Near Alewife, I passed under an overpass by the parking lot—midday light filtered through in just the right way, creating a series of light-shadow-light transitions that would be perfect for silhouette shots. I took a few samples (you can see them above), but I want to return. I couldn’t quite get the centered perspective I hoped for. I’ve come to enjoy doubling back on walks—not just looping through, but retracing steps to catch something I missed, or to see it in a different light. Anything can be a beautiful photograph, in the right light. The camera can freeze something we usually rush past. That stillness—it lets us see it, in some ways, for real, for the first time. That is the magic of a picture.

I’d worked out before this walk, ending with a sauna and cold plunge. I think this routine helps make the heat manageable for the walk—the sun and the natural motion of the body warming it back to equilibrium. There was an odd interruption in the walk: a bright orange garbage truck snorting down the path. The truck took all of us on the path by surprise. Here is one such person.

I purchased Peak Design’s Slide Lite—a camera strap that seems made for the Q. I haven’t missed any shots since shelving my iPhone. Late morning walks, I’ve noticed, also stir up a kind of hunger—not just for food, but for something healthy, something earned. The walk is its own appetite. Today it will be a “real” Greek salad. No lettuce.