Boston in the Spring

I drove down Storrow Drive during the part of the day when the sun is so big that it can barely be eclipsed by a beach ball. Across the Charles River, the MIT dome reflected the shade of orange that usually precedes the shade of pink. On the river, the boats' sails shone like triangles of white glass in a yellow cathedral window. Among the sails, rowers' oars flickered in unison as they dove from sunlight to river to sunlight to river.