This is the second of three “story” posts, all of which happened within a three hour span of time last winter when Visual Art was EVERYWHERE.

It began with tires and art, and then continued an hour later, as I was driving home, back from the Tire Wearhouse.

I was listening to NPR, which is a small miracle because the car that I drove before this one had no working radio. At the same time, I’m crawling along roads covered in wet snow, with flakes the size of a child’s palm floating down in slow motion. The woods on both sides of me ache with the cold beauty of…

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