October Blush

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Where the sun in clouds meets the moon in sky,

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And mix once more in water,,

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As the broomstick of Wicked Winter winds down the hours,

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  I navigate the awe of Fall.   And oh what a ride it is.

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Pondering the speed of seasons, Mother Earth blushes.

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                         Time ticks away like an old fashioned double bell alarm clock.  I think,                                            Whew!  Hang on and Tick Tock!’

Before you know it, before you imagine it will happen to you, it will most assuredly be.            And nothing is a better reminder of the fleet of life than the colorful days of autumn.

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The Long Shadows

There is a sweet sadness at this time of year,

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Fractured signs of it everywhere.

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Illustrating that fall gets woven from threads of late summer,

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A time of covered legs and long shadows,

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A footprint of summer passing by.

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Cooler nights, shorter days, feathery gold and crisp blue,

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Ominous big bird skies.

We, the creatures, prepare to hunker down.  But first, like most New Yorker’s, I’m very busy in the Fall, like going back to school with great enthusiasm, goals of many to be accomplished.                                                                          As we wind toward the reality of darkness and the cold, I gravitate to the shelter of lovers of life, men and women for all seasons, good books in front of fireplaces, delicious theater, heavier food and cashmere clothing, the tools that say to Old Man Winter, ‘Bring it on, it’s all good to me.  I’m just grateful to be here.’

Crossing The Hudson

After three quiet evenings in the country, we crossed the George Washington Bridge on Monday afternoon.  Usually we’re on it in the dark of night.  By day, it’s a river of industry flowing into the life of NYC.IMG_6091

This new building is right at the entrance, covered in a skin of clouds.

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The view out the sunroof, when I noticed, among other amusements, the meal related trucks.

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A transporter’s ad for the appetizers it carries,

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The main course brought to us by Bumble Bee,

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Baci chocolates for dessert,

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Stacked chairs on a new car carrier, sans cars,

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One of a few horse trailers going to New York.  Go figure.

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By the time we hit the West Side Highway, we were no longer quiet country folks but had joined the excitement and the speed, while counting our blessings for the green peace of Sullivan County and the bustling energy of our beloved city.  It may seem insane to those that live elsewhere, but this place inspires me to no end.

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I sometimes wonder if I will ever tire of it, but so far,                                                                                              it feeds my heart and soul, coming and going.

Amusements: The Sequel

It’s a

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Not to be observant

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When in a sea of humanity.  One might unknowingly miss

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On the corner of Waverly and 7th Avenue.

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A two-bodied beast locked in unity,

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The mysterious case of the missing workmen,

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The end of denim jeans,

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A worn-out  speed demon,

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A royal prince.

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And the kitty crown on a leash, window shopping at the jewelry store.

Keep your eyes open, your heart too, and witness the wonders before you.  That’s what I do every time I walk out the door on this tiny island.  You can see how it’s paid off: with more amusements, and many more to come.

The Last Hurrah

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Today’s stroll spoke of endings in closed cafes and quiet streets,

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Of vacation being officially over.

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Farewell to sun and summer,

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And sitting on the plaza.

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With pending doom from the Flatiron Building in an ominous sky,

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I reached for pink in mounds of mum,

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The color of the last hurrah.

IMG_5681Goodbye sweet summer.

‘It’s been real,’ as my mother would say.  In some cases, to real to bear.

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Approaching fall a tad worse for wear, life goes on and I’m going with it.

The Cummington Fair’s 145th year

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With eyes lined,

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And mighty haunches fed, bred for dragging ten thousand pounds,

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In regal repose, the beast of burden between appointments with the public and the pull.

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Steve and I strolled the garish fairway of sugar and screams,

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And abdominal organ rearrangements, two for the price of one.

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We ambled to the stage for a pretty good Johnny Cash impersonation.

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And to another to sing the national anthem in the dark.

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We witnessed drivers loading into their reinforced weapons, soldiers going to war for the Demolition Derby.

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 The deafening derby’s aftermath in silent wreckage.  All in the name of destruction.

Some things never change.

It’s a comfort to know that there will always be the best bouquet, the perfect green bean , the finest pair of knitted gloves, the strongest oxen team, the most fortified jalopy, singers who imitate the great, and Steve and I, like other spectators, gathering for an evening where screaming your head off is not only the norm, but the expectation.  It’s like being young.

First photo by Steve Kramer, the rest by yours truly.