Goodbye Summer, Hello Fall

Since my postings got changed last week, I updated this one before I posted.  Enjoy.

As I've made note, around here, that I absolutely love fall it should be no surprise that the changing of the leaves bring an indescribable delight to me.  Along the way, though, the summer rolled into an Indian Summer that we relished as we saw extended tomatoes at the farmer's market and went kayaking another time.  The bliss of summer extended for a momentary limbo of extended transition.

Night kayaking along the Hudson . . . the city really does look like a Gotham delight here.  

Those yellow jackets do us no favors, but the water was sublime . . . gentle rolls of tidal splashes from boat traffic and seasonal change made the warm salty Hudson lap onto our kayaks.  Rocking us along.  

In the moonlight I look like your ghostly captain.  

The Tania I never blogged about here, in a fabric my Mom gave me from her stash.  It's grossly too big, as in in two inches worth.  In short, for this non-sewing post, I added an inch and a half to the waist and should have reduced said waist by half and inch.  Of course, that reduction would have had to been in a time machine . . . as about a month later the half inch disappeared.  It really is a fab pattern.  But this truly muslin version sags and makes me look like I have poopy pants.  

As summer faded, the final season of Mo and Pettite did too.  It was hard being a Yankees fan this year.   

Then in September we boarded a Circle Line and went to Bear Mountain for Oktoberfest.  Along the Hudson the colors were just starting to change.

The city, I call home, is always beautiful to me.  

 And then the leaves did begin to change.  As I walked across campus last week I began to notice the slight change in landscape.

Of course, the Lupus doesn't change.  That one is always the same . . . saying hello whenever you don't want her near.  

So I preserved citrus, even though they are brutal to the rash, so that I can flavor dishes in the winter snow with them.  Hence, small bits verses whole oranges react in non alarming ways to the Lupus beast.

Morning walks with Muttly are always lovely, but lately . . . they can take your breathe away.

On a rainy fall day, the streets of the city are a delight.  Our leaves will change in another two weeks as the buildings hold the heat in longer.  

Seasons have changed, as the farmer's stands are riddled with apples and squashes--quintessential foods of fall.  

I made a hoodie (next up on the blogging docket), and Ripple met me with kisses one evening.  Monsters are good for many things.  Cute love is one of them.  

And then I headed north, for a weekend in New England.  New England in fall . . . takes my breath away and breaks my heart with the pure beauty.  I make it a yearly tradition, and this one . . . a friend has a cabin.  A cabin in New Hampshire.  Need I say more? Connecticut warmed me with golden tones of joy to come.  

The sunset through Vermont.  

A cabin in the woods, along a lake, has some of the most beautiful paths I have ever seen.  Did I take your breath away with my unfiltered pictures? The mist, the cool air, the gentle breeze were all characters of a novel . . . perhaps the forbidden romance that this NYer has with Boston or perhaps remnants of Anne of Green Gables novel.  Most likely Robert Frost seeps through the corners of the mind.  

When the reality is as beautiful as the imagination, the heart and mind weep at the beauty.  

Leaves . . . the crunch and smell crisper and fresher than the mind remembers making us forget the height of summer, and the longing relish of a thought that it would never end.  Instead, the rich blooms of fall through falling leaves mean weary souls and reaffirm our faith in seasonal tides.  We momentarily eschew the memories and thoughts of a long, cold winter.  The white shroud lays far from our mind.  Sweaters, sandals, and bare feet on an autumn carpet playfully disillusion us for momentary bliss.  The shortening days of fall usurp our summer warmth.  Overshadowing our doubt of a change while reassuring us of rebirth.