The snow has slipped away just long enough to reveal the struggling ground beneath it. The rusted metal yawns orange and brown and blue into the random sunlight, punctuating the grayness with a sudden shot of awareness. The harshness of the season has pulled this reaction from the grate, forcing it into a riot state. It causes me to linger, pulling my mind toward the dates rapidly slipping from the calendar.
Where I Stand Sunday is an ongoing photo essay examining the different places I spend my life standing. Too often we take for granted the everyday places we spend our lives walking on. The ground we tread on has its own stories to tell.