the weather in Brooklyn

So, there was a blog landmark I monumentously missed on September 27th. Happy 1st birthday, my little writing house! And thank you, lovely readers, for stopping by for a read every so often!

The past few weeks have been windy---pleasant breezes of family in town, apples delivered from Maine, Mary Poppins on Broadway and delicious restaurants in excess. But there have also gusted colder breezes---doctor’s visits, job uncertainties. And so the blog has been blown with the first fallen leaves into a hidden alley, and writing has felt like a feathery dream. I totally know that since our move, my poor little blog house seems to have lost a few rooms. I haven’t written about travel or food or seasonal delights lately and you probably think the winds of change have forever jammed and rusted those doors. I can assure you I intend to right that soon. Check back often for more posts as the fall continues!

Needless, right now it is fall, and there is beauty to be noticed. I hold these instants of this week like thin leaves and marvel that my life, so fretted and disquieted in this city, is still abundant in small mercies.

*The bridge rattles away above our place, but it is quiet inside. I cannot give thanks enough for the calm inside, and the hint of change in the colours out. The fall still feels like it’s ahead here, as trees are clinging to green and temperatures have remained summery.


*I wake most mornings to little elves tapping. The streets around our place are being re-cobbled, a project that has been ongoing since we got here. I have waited and waited for the cobblers to come down to us, and we are nearly there. I’m itching to pull up the blind to a clean, empty, cobbled street on some cool morning soon.


*I have been craving apple cider donuts since my birthday, and my sweet husband got up early on Saturday to be dragged through the farmer’s market by a wife hyper on fall foliage decor, local cheese, heirloom vegetables, and yes, the long-anticipated donuts. I tried my first kabocha squash which made a sweet, full autumn soup.


*Slivers of leaves change, and with each new colour, I am filled with desire for more. But the slow pace is good for anticipation.


*And things without photos---a bowl of apples, a cello and guitar stoked to life, sweet-cheese french toast, his hugs after work, sun, mariachi on the subway---all these instants are grace.

I lost a handful of photos in a near-calamitous unplugging of a huge hard-drive (which, miraculous, revived), and so this post will end quietly without all the sun saturation I had hoped.


Nearly each time I check the weather, I see 'the weather in Brooklyn' on and think that would be such a good title for a novel. The weather in Brooklyn is lovely right now, on the cusp of fall drama. I'm waiting for the oranges and yellows, and the scent of dry leaves on the path. Oh the pages ahead are delightful; for now, 'night from calm Brooklyn!