Walks have been slower lately, both to baby an aching foot and stay clear of icy patches on the street. I miss the faster pace. I see more of the landscape this way, true, but the landscape of late winter is not always one on which you want to linger. 

Odd remnants of leftover snow, garbage cans seemingly abandoned by the side of the road, piles of pruned and discarded azalea branches. I’m reminded of late winter in Chicago, when the snow would melt and my enthusiasm for warmer weather would be tempered by seeing what had been hiding beneath the white stuff for weeks.

The suburban landscape is more forgiving, though, the ratio of green to gray easier on the eye, and there have been times lately when the salt crystals on the road gleam like so many rough diamonds. At my slower pace I can see them sparkle.