Topic

snow

A collection of 12 issues

The white box.

"The box is under the seat," I thought as I situated myself between my sisters in the back seat of the Volkswagen. I could not see the box, but I knew it was there. Unseen, like an abandoned thought, but still, its presence was tangible. Its presence was

White space and the city.

My post using Omm Writer – beautiful white space for writing in. I have always, always loved snow, having spent most of my childhood knee-deep in it. So this recent post on Design Observer about snow, cities, and white space deeply resonated with me. The author talks about snow as the

On loving Frederick, part seven.

On July 23, 2011, I recited these design stories at the Boston Globe for my friends at Ink, stories inspired by the work of Frederick Law Olmsted and the impact his legacy has had on my life in particular, and three American cities – Seattle, DC, and Baltimore – in general. Each

In winter.

Looking south across the Cook Inlet near Anchorage, Alaska, a plane approaches the Ted Stevens International Airport. Photo by Callie Neylan, January 11, 2012. Snow scattered softly around my ears and eyelashes while I waited for him to open the door. It was metal. Slate blue. Cold like the Alaska

The white box.

"The box is under the seat," I thought as I situated myself between my sisters in the back seat of the Volkswagen. I could not see the box, but I knew it was there. Unseen, like an abandoned thought, but still, its presence was tangible. Its presence was

White space and the city.

My post using Omm Writer – beautiful white space for writing in. I have always, always loved snow, having spent most of my childhood knee-deep in it. So this recent post on Design Observer about snow, cities, and white space deeply resonated with me. The author talks about snow as the

On loving Frederick, part seven.

On July 23, 2011, I recited these design stories at the Boston Globe for my friends at Ink, stories inspired by the work of Frederick Law Olmsted and the impact his legacy has had on my life in particular, and three American cities – Seattle, DC, and Baltimore – in general. Each

In winter.

Looking south across the Cook Inlet near Anchorage, Alaska, a plane approaches the Ted Stevens International Airport. Photo by Callie Neylan, January 11, 2012. Snow scattered softly around my ears and eyelashes while I waited for him to open the door. It was metal. Slate blue. Cold like the Alaska

The white box.

"The box is under the seat," I thought as I situated myself between my sisters in the back seat of the Volkswagen. I could not see the box, but I knew it was there. Unseen, like an abandoned thought, but still, its presence was tangible. Its presence was

White space and the city.

My post using Omm Writer – beautiful white space for writing in. I have always, always loved snow, having spent most of my childhood knee-deep in it. So this recent post on Design Observer about snow, cities, and white space deeply resonated with me. The author talks about snow as the