One early, wintry Sunday morning about a year ago I bundled up with my hat, scarf, gloves and a pair of sunglasses for, despite the cold air, the sun has risen into a beautifully blue sky that day. I grabbed my camera and headed over to the Charles River, a landmark I pass often while on the bus en route to school. As I sit on the bus I always stop what I'm doing when we cross the BU Bridge in order to gaze out over the Charles. Winter time leaves it in varying states, so I enjoy peering out to see how it looks each time.
This particular morning I knew I would be greeted by ice covered waters with little breeze and a warm sun. I began right after the BU Bridge and headed down in the direction towards the next bridge in a series of three that I would eventually hit that morning. I walked right down to the slightly muddy shore and started the series of about 200 pictures I would take.
I loved the reflection of the sun on the ice and the blue sky that so beautifully complimented the scenery. With Boston's skyline ahead of me, I sought to capture the beauty of it while encapsulating the smaller things, such as the frozen over river that lay between myself and the buildings that lay foundation for the famous skyline. I walked on, stopping here and there when something caught my eye. The bare tree branches drew me toward them, and served as frames to the scene that lay ahead of me.
I would stop and peer down at the spots of the river in which water had struggled through and broken free; areas of a dark, deep blue were scattered throughout the white, thick layer of ice. I came to an area just between the Mass. Ave. Bridge and the Salt and Pepper Bridge where the ice was choppy; the water had certainly won the battle in this area. A family of ducks had found this space and were happily flapping about, diving under and resurfacing on the other side of the ice a couple seconds later. I watched them. I felt bad for these poor birds having to be in the cold water, but I was intrigued at how happy they were. I wondered about the dangers that the ice posed for them and I wondered where and how they seek shelter throughout the cold, harsh winters that we experience here.
Every so often along the river you will find a boat house. I passed about three or four that morning. I am still amazed at the coverings that are used to protect boats in the winter, but also I cannot fathom how such things are even put over the largest of boats with such complete perfection. It must be quite the art. I was pretty evenly across from the buildings now, and I found this row of boats to stick out to me. Their alignment along the dock paired with the skyline was an irresistible shot. The sunlight set the scene with perfection.
I continued on, making my way closer to my final landmark: the Salt and Pepper Bridge, named after the large pillars that line each side of the bridge and do indeed resembled salt and pepper shakers. I realized that I had never actually been in this area by foot, and, although I was tired and pretty cold by that point I continued on. I reached the bridge and made it to the first pillar, but could not proceed because I am afraid of heights, which is particularly accentuated when over water. This bridge did not give me a sense of stability or protection, so I quickly removed myself from it, thus, ending my journey for that morning.
With the Citgo sign now in front of me and the skyline behind me, I headed back to my car for a walk that proved to be much longer and colder than I had remembered it to be in the other direction.
