Ann Arbor, to the tune of "Roxanne"

Like a scorned lover coming back for more, I'm forced to admit: I find Ann Arbor pretty sometimes.

Tonight I wound up in Gallup Park, the unwitting captive of my friend JC's whim to take a walk after she bought me dinner. Oh fine, I thought.

But standing on the bridge that crosses the river in the park, watching the sun set upstream, even I started feeling the spirit of John Muir (ref):

This grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere; the dew is never all dried at once; a shower is forever falling; vapor ever rising. Eternal sunrise, eternal sunset, eternal dawn and gloaming, on seas and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls.

Shy of nine, the sun disappeared behind a cloister of trees:


In the river's reflection, clouds became nebulae and air bubbles stars:


The illusion of stars was more apparent looking straight down into the water:


A kayaker passed underneath the bridge, rippling the water behind her.


And lily pads clustered in the shallows.


Snapping these pictures, I almost forgave Ann Arbor for her six-month winters.... The times I breathed her cold air and felt her needly frost-tips in my lungs. The times I slipped on her ice sheets and feared for my bones. The times her winds seared me at the bus stop like I was a piece of raw tuna.... Like I said, almost forgave.

I keep hoping she'll change, but even if she doesn't, I'll probably keep coming back anyway.