Summer on the Charles
Whoever said that Bostonians are a cold, unfeeling lot had never been here on a day like today, when the sun shone high in the sky and the pavement shimmered from the heat. Everywhere couples just stroll, holding hands: young punks with piercings, yuppies pushing a stroller, old academics walking proudly. It is a different city, tender, affectionate.. Everyone walks, and distances that in the chill of winter seem absurd suddenly seem quite logical. Boston University to Central Square? Why not, it’s only an hour.
Cambridge’s residential streets become a procession of flowers as our brief spring belatedly unfolds: daffodils, ornamental magnolias, the red leaves of Japanese maple, the periwinkle, the locust trees, and now roses, the old fashioned variety that actually smell good. Even in our gardens we seem to pack a lot of living into 3 months of the year.
Today I did something I’ve been meaning to do, and kayaked from Watertown along the Charles River. I passed under the Eliot Bridge, staying close to the south bank under the shade of the birches. After JFK Street, I had a street festival on the Cambridge side to keep me entertained. I stopped for lunch around the supports of the BU bridge, admiring the view of downtown, and letting my kayak float on the water while I munched. It was a perfect afternoon.
I’ve been marveling recently at how complex this city is, so many parts and pieces interacting, and yet somehow it mostly all works out. It is not so different from the amazement I feel about the complex web of interrelationships that keep, say, a forest growing. In all the litany of worries about humanity’s urban future, I forget the simple fact that many (most) things about cities do work. The Dutch sometimes say that God created Nature, but the Dutch created Holland. In the same way, Bostonians created the Charles River that exists today, and even the grimmest environmentalist has to admit they didn’t do half bad.
Cambridge’s residential streets become a procession of flowers as our brief spring belatedly unfolds: daffodils, ornamental magnolias, the red leaves of Japanese maple, the periwinkle, the locust trees, and now roses, the old fashioned variety that actually smell good. Even in our gardens we seem to pack a lot of living into 3 months of the year.
Today I did something I’ve been meaning to do, and kayaked from Watertown along the Charles River. I passed under the Eliot Bridge, staying close to the south bank under the shade of the birches. After JFK Street, I had a street festival on the Cambridge side to keep me entertained. I stopped for lunch around the supports of the BU bridge, admiring the view of downtown, and letting my kayak float on the water while I munched. It was a perfect afternoon.
I’ve been marveling recently at how complex this city is, so many parts and pieces interacting, and yet somehow it mostly all works out. It is not so different from the amazement I feel about the complex web of interrelationships that keep, say, a forest growing. In all the litany of worries about humanity’s urban future, I forget the simple fact that many (most) things about cities do work. The Dutch sometimes say that God created Nature, but the Dutch created Holland. In the same way, Bostonians created the Charles River that exists today, and even the grimmest environmentalist has to admit they didn’t do half bad.
