Trodden-on snow, stiff or slushy, makes for irksome walking. But skis and wind together are an altogether other way of going. Back and forth across the immense mound of Millennium Park, he drove the high horses of the wind. Or did they he?
I felt the wind, as who did not, standing on that boss of reclaimed land overlooking the Charles. It’s always blowing, from the west usually, but also the south, the north, even the east, one of the reasons I and others like the place.
About the days ahead, we’ll need to harness such winds as we can to pull us over the turbulent surface of crisscrossed crises ahead of us. Freshness is such a wind, and to it, I intend to lift my sail.