Chilladelphia - Secret Places

Greasy food and Netflix are great for winter hibernation. But in spite of the snow and the persistent cold, spring is almost here. I know it. I can smell it. I can't wait.

And I'm always the dumbass who wears shorts and a t-shirt out of the house the first day the thermometer hits 60. Not because I'm a vapid frat boy, but because I always feel like, somehow, if I just start acting like summer is finally here, then the weather miraculously won't get chilly again.

That's fine, laugh. Go on. But you Philadelphians know in your hearts that the weather here in spring can be such a tease. One week it's sunny and warm and after a few days you finally decide to break out the flip-flops, and the next week there's a freak April blizzard and you're waiting for the bus in the driving snow with no jacket. So really, if you think about it, I'm just getting a head start on the inevitable.

Anyway, even though the weather hasn't begun to change yet, just knowing that spring is only a few short weeks away has gotten me thinking about spring things, and summer things, wine on the roof and beer on the beach. And, maybe because March is such a meteorological mindf#ck, the moment the warm weather finally rolls in, Don Bito becomes an outdoor maniac. All of my slacking, lolly-gagging, and general languor becomes an outdoor activity.

I. love. Philly's parks. And I say that knowing full well that I haven't seen even half of Philly's parks, that if I lived a hundred years I would never be able to say that I knew my way around every acre of park the city has to offer. There's something unbelievably chill about being surrounded by lush grass and feathery trees, being lost in a wash of green in the middle of a grey steel city.

And, no, I am not talking about playing frisbee with my labrador in Rittenhouse Square, you yuppy twit.

There's so much green space inside the city that you can get lost in it. Even driving (yes, I did). So in my experience it's best to find a few scenic, secret places and emblazon the ways there in your mind. I personally have several secret places in the city. You can find me there when the weather turns.

I know a place where I can dangle on the edge of a cliff and watch the rowers slice the Schuylkill, fairy brake lights dash across the river.

I know a mossy rock like a sheltered grotto where I can sit and listen to the Pennypack slide by, where geese make their nests, invisible to the joggers on the paved trail above.

I know a place where I can stand beside the skyline, or tilt back my head and see all the city lights like a reflection in the deep, black pool of the sky.

I can't tell you where they are, of course, because they'd no longer be secret. But if you wander long enough you'll stumble on them someday, anyway. And that's the beauty of secret places: they're so transitory. One day you'll run into someone else who has been returning there, harboring the same secret all along. Then the dream of seclusion will be broken and you'll be forced to go exploring for another perch. Everyone in the city becomes implicated in this constant recycling of secrets.

You can tell the cold weather has addled my brains. Without assuming we actually have a readership of any kind, I'd like to invite you all to share your secret places in the comments. You know, in an irritatingly vague way so that no one who doesn't know it will be able to find it (see above). And please, if you recognized one of my secret places, do the right thing and don't shatter my little delusions. What else do I have, really?