Suddenly, like a loose tooth, the old tree was gone.
For all the family and friends who’ve ever sat in these chairs and whiled away the time with us.
Repairs trigger episodes of suspense, drama, pride, anguish, and (often) comedy.
Happy at the prospect of the temperature hitting sixty, we climbed in the car and headed for the Kesling Preserve.
The stone read “You’ve got this.” That gave me pause.
Inside this global pandemic is a golden moment when we have the perfect excuse to be families, nothing more.
Mr C insists that we must go traipsing two times a week.
The river reflects the grey bark of the trees, and the sky, which is a dazzling, deep, violet-tinged blue.
As we prepare for an event we can’t begin to imagine, an invisible agent approaches, pushing out what was convenient, convivial, and carefree.
The thousands of stubby spring seedlings that the landscape crews planted are now fulfilling an anonymous designer’s vision.
It was an unexpected pleasure to see so many showy and unusual plants in one day.
Going into this small boxy building plunged me into a microcosm of Chicago where urgent, even desperate transactions were the norm.