Sunday, April 14, 2013, was a fine Spring day in Washington’s Glover Park. There, in a stretch of fields bordered by Foundry Creek and a north/south hiking trail, I found these views.
Yesterday, the snowpack was in retreat, revealing hidden activity in the front gardens on my block.
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In one of his poems e.e. cummings mocks the inventor who builds “an instrument to measure spring with.” His description of the inventor — “some oneyed son for a bitch”– brings to mind a camera.