Just blocks from the harbor in St. John's and the spritz and squall make neighborhood streets smaller, more comforting somehow. In this picturesque city open to the Atlantic the intimate spaces amongst clapboard houses draw attention. It's easy to remember the old adage that there is no bad weather only inappropriate gear. And when well bundled in bluster and blow and armed with a camera you can amble through little lanes and small alleys taking in the personal spaces. The nooks and passageways become familiar and recognizable even if you've never walked that particular path before. Perhaps it's sentiment, a mood that makes the world yours when the sky comes pouring down next to the sea.
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