October in Boston can be both beautiful and brutal. If a hurricane manages to make land, it’s a nightmare. To this day, I can remember a storm that hit on a Sunday I was scheduled to do inventory at Structure. (Ahh, the days of retail.) It was so bad I had to take a cab to Faneuil Hall, effectively using up any time-and-a-half pay I would earn that day, but it was so worth it. Looking at the wet bedraggled messes of people that came in the store, I didn’t envy anyone who had to be outside for however short a period. I stayed until the work, and the day, was done, and the storm had subsided.
These past few weeks in Boston have been pretty glorious. The turn of the screw into fall has been a crisp and gorgeous affair, but such beauty will eventually be balanced with the bad, and that’s all part of the wonder of the weather. I’m a bit behind on posting the fun stuff of my latest Madonna adventure at the former Boston Garden, but it will be here eventually. For now, a brief glimpse into the descent of evening in the city I love so much. Sometimes a photo makes the heart soar higher than any multitude of words ever could.
Fly, my pretty, fly.
