the Prospect is fine

It might mean our fingers are zapped with static, we push our thermostat to the heat setting, and our necks see nothing behind spools of scarf, but we are mighty pleased about the arrival of the cold. Saturday brought mugs of tea and flakes blowing up and down our street. As we sat in our living room with music and each other, the abundant coziness made me feel burrowed, at home for real.

And then Sunday was a day to feel the change. The air was positively spicy with a freshness brought out by the freeze, and we ventured for the first time to the wide, open plains of Prospect Park as the sun sunk. Can you reminisce two days after an event? Because we are mentally following our paths over conifer-needled trails and sunbursts already.

So, here’s something terrific about city life. A walk in the woods is ambrosial after a week of cars and pavement. The contrast is so tangible your legs almost trip without a person ahead to robotically follow.

And another thing to love about New York? You hear the elevator ding and know itty trick-or-treaters are coming to your door soon. But, back to Prospect Park.

It was quiet. We could hear each step our muddied-for-the-first-time-since-moving shoes took. I kept breathing in and in to hold the must of fallen leaves, my favorite smell.


The brilliant oranges and perky yellows made me especially jubilant---totally that candy-store effect of pieces of color piled high. (In case you wonder, that's not me.)


We are delighted with the woodland retreat we will now frequent, just a few subway stops from home.

This week, we are enjoying the memory, and savoring those delicious, dry, sunny days of autumn.


Happy November, my dears!

(He is my dearest.)