These photos are exactly why we wanted to live here. To soak up the brick/ivy/beautiful door knocker East Coast charm that felt completely foreign three years ago, but now feels like home. It feels so natural now to wear heavy coats down the same streets we walked up four months ago in sundresses and shorts. Seasons now make sense, and it no longer feels like a betrayal when I slip on the slushy gutter snow. I should have worn my boots. I know that…I live here.

And living here is walking, always walking. Our home is so central that taking the T anywhere but to school seems like a waste. It’s not so cold yet that the weather feels like a personal affront, so I walk through the park, past the ribbon-clad ducklings, wondering if now might be a good time to take a running slide across the frozen water…

Please note a certain photo-bombing hand pitching a snowball at an indignant squirrel.

Pretty much a 100% decision rate against said pond-sliding. When you’re shivering and wet, it’s much harder to appreciate the holiday lights that are still up.

The reigning theory is that they stay up until it doesn’t feel like winter outside, but this is probably an artifact of our California-hardwired brains. Boston pulls itself out of winter sometime around June. I am personally fine with 6 months of sparkly night-lights, but those who foot the electric bill might disagree.


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