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Nighttime reminiscing.
I've been feeling sick and feverish for the last two days, so instead of deadlifts I took my exercise today in a short walk around the Central Park Reservoir - I went without a coat or sweatshirt in the hopes it'd cool me down, and that the fresh air would help clear my head for a bit. Both things happened, as it turns out, and I apparently picked a great day to take it easy and take a stroll in the park: the weather was this side of perfect. The air was chilly and calm, and clouds were spread out over almost all of the available sky without covering it, just rippling in waves and dunes to let the sky and sunlight through to give themselves that much more texture, little patches of blue peeking through the clouds to shine on the water.
This time of year there are almost no leaves left on trees, and those that are tend to be the brightly colored reds and yellows that cling stubbornly to the point where it takes a storm to rip them free. When I walked under them and remembered to look up, the empty branches turned into latticework that changed with every step, what I could see through them the same and the way I could see it different.
I spotted geese, coots, all sorts of ducks and seagulls, a hawk, and no small number of sparrows. There was a tiny hint of wood smoke in the air, and that most of all made my heart sing: it's not a smell I know in the city. It pulled the afternoon together, and pulled me back to northern California. Today here felt like late fall over there, made me feel like I was home again with my boots on, ready to explore and move for a while, see what I might find - the reality of the seasons' passing and the promise of winter held fast against today.
This time of year there are almost no leaves left on trees, and those that are tend to be the brightly colored reds and yellows that cling stubbornly to the point where it takes a storm to rip them free. When I walked under them and remembered to look up, the empty branches turned into latticework that changed with every step, what I could see through them the same and the way I could see it different.
I spotted geese, coots, all sorts of ducks and seagulls, a hawk, and no small number of sparrows. There was a tiny hint of wood smoke in the air, and that most of all made my heart sing: it's not a smell I know in the city. It pulled the afternoon together, and pulled me back to northern California. Today here felt like late fall over there, made me feel like I was home again with my boots on, ready to explore and move for a while, see what I might find - the reality of the seasons' passing and the promise of winter held fast against today.