On Valentine's Day I awoke at seven, put on my red Eddie Bauer vintage down, my Danners with the red laces and had breakfast with my roommates at a local diner. After mowing down a breakfast sandwich and a bowl of oatmeal, I bid farewell to my friends and drove off alone, dead set to carve out my own Valentine's Day. I called my mom and grandmother to wish them my love as I left Waterville and then put a Dire Straits tape into the deck.
I headed southeast towards the coast, driving slowly and enjoying the freedom of solitude. After two complete rotations of Brothers In Arms and a half a dozen stops, I stopped at a fork in the road to pick my next move. As the various potential routes percolated through my mind, I looked through my photos on the LCD of my 5D Mark II. At first the red in the images I photographed seemed like a mere coincidence but as the sound of the selection wheel clicking rhythmically continued and the red pixels hopped around the screen with increasing fervor, I had my shivering moment like the first time you share a gaze with a pretty women.
I would live here in a second. Bunker Hill, twenty minutes north of Route 1.
Note the hay on the lip of the second level.
I wouldn't try to jam on that hoop.
Barns look like faces that make me smile.