One day last week as I was lying outside, alone, luxuriating in the sun and my daydreams, I had a forecast of a Slim Aarons’ style picturesque summer– A la A Place in the Sun. Enveloped in Ethiopian jazz, floating from our sun porch, a
Tag: Midtown Omaha
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In my years of making the tour on Western Avenue, I had never seen a sign of life at 5429 Western, although it was plain she was very well looked after. All the same, having observed her for that amount of time, one would think one might catch a
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As I trundled along, feeling a bliss-filled rush, I grabbed for the camera in my backpack. I had decided that this was the summer of wearing Detective meets Parent Trap inspired costumes and I was feeling very good about my 1960s camp top. But
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An easy steer east on Leavenworth has long been a pageant for the senses and I suppose it has always been that way. There were animated performers in plenty on that Saturday morning as I hummed along the street, taking it all in—shop keeps
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“Now that is a moon….” Mr. Cassette sighed, as we were lying under our Larch, staring up at the sky just the other night. This is his new thing, lying on the still warm ground and one that I have fully embraced. For the spring
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From where I stand, all of authentic Leavenworth is mesmerizing. Not in the Dazzling Happy Hollow Way or in the Glorious Woolworth Avenue Way, as much as in the charming, favored shoe way. Or maybe Leavenworth is more of a slipper? At any rate,
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I had written Rose Lodge on a manila file folder over a year ago, an early target investigation that I had hoped to explore in my first months at this sleuthing business. Eventually the folder was buried like so many of my dead of night
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I ask you, what could more beautiful than a home owner who hears the pleading calls of his home, who seeks to understand and studies the oft ignored architectural language, and furthermore, (the real biggie in my estimation), has the financial
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Honestly, it is all rather dismal around here with no snow in sight. I do love a good snow. Mr. Cassette has said it will possibly never snow again, which bothers me greatly, and to give up my Snow Pining. He trails off, knowing not to be too
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If you did not know it or maybe, if you were deep in thought (or woefully of the unobservant type), you might have never seen or even heard tell of the Jones Street footbridge through the foliage of Elmwood Park. It is now formally called the