When the Open Road is Closing In
I went away again for a few weeks, to Western Massachusetts, which I just learned to spell a few years ago, and to Vermont, which as always, is perfect. I had a wonderful time, and saw many good friends scattered along the way, and also enjoyed my second spring of the year as I sat under flowering pink things in Amherst and Northampton and was startled by ice on trees as I glided serenely along the Molly Stark Trail from coffee to maple syrup to pancake. (That's a lie. The maple syrup was actually in the coffee.)
Sometimes coming home is a little bit disappointing, especially if there's not another exciting trip planned soon, but this time I was happy to be back, and as I rolled up to Toronto on Monday I decided to drive through the Exhibition grounds because they're so strange, and pretty, and sprawlingly weirdly uniquely Toronto. It was good to be back and to embrace something especially special about my city. There was, I'll admit, a moment of reverie.
And then pretty much the first thing I saw was a pigeon eating horse shit off the ground.
Welcome home!