Today could last for years.

[hannah]

Autumn comes in around the edges. I saw it today across the street, on the edges of the ginkgo leaves, little fish-scales turning from brown to green as the color moves inward. It's not entirely here yet, but it's murmuring. And it made me think how autumn comes in the leaves, but summer stays in the grass. There are very few places in New York City that have tall grass like I grew up with, both feral and wild, that reached up and swayed gently, stiff and sharp but soft if brushed just right. If brushed gently.

There's a few open spaces with grass that smell like those places I grew up with, though. Sheer proximity means I know one particular field in Riverside Park best, a little three-block vale that's used for soccer practice and picnics and sledding in the winter, just big enough you get a little sense of the sky. I was walking through it today, thinking about the grass I grew up with, not the well-kept public field - then the breeze pushed a smell right to my face, and for a moment I was walking through those grasses.

This is my favorite time of year. Just as summer rears up, the moment before fall comes crashing down. The perfect moment of suspension. It won't last - but then again, what does?

Comments

[grimrose_eilwynn]

I loved the descriptions. Just a reader of the blog who thought I'd let ya know. Great word choice.

[hannah]

Thank you!