October Connections

Late October connections with my fellow citizens, with my neighborhood, my family, Mother Earth, places through which we travel.

State Line Scenic Lookout near Alpine, New Jersey.

We made the most of our bonus late October pseudo-summer day.

We voted early (well, in my case, by absentee ballot - I had forgotten there would be early voting, and the new change in New York law - different from the COVID peak - requires using the absentee ballot if that was requested, one or the other method without optionality; I was turned away at the polling site when I tried to vote early, then went back to drop off the ballot). Go out and vote, especially if anything in this blog resonates!

Then Sis and I rewarded ourselves for our completed civic duties with brunch in the neighborhood - eggs Benedict Blue Mezze style for me, a veggie omelette for her. We may have eaten there once before, but not often, so it felt new. Love outdoor seating on a gorgeous day.

And, jealous of all the fall foliage photos by a certain photographer who's breezing through town waiting for a new deployment, and knowing my family will miss not only Election Day but the changing leaves, as well, with upcoming travel, I managed to rally the parentals and Lil' Bro and Sis to head to New Jersey for leaf peeping and forest bathing and recommuning with Mother Earth in one of her most beautiful seasons - yay for Autumn! 

Our tried and tested spot is just over the bridge in New Jersey, with a basically flat, paved path - hiking lite, very, very lite. Would I like a more adventurous hike? Sure. But I'll take what I can get, and stick with the band that I got.

Desperately trying to savor all the seasons, and time... 

...Papa Rooster didn't recall having been at that spot, though we've gone several times before. I don't know whether he remembered it by the end. But he enjoyed it, so that's a win.

Seasonality means relishing what is here in the moment, accepting that things change, that people change, that life marches ahead. That happens in all aspects. The leaves fall, and room is made for new ones after a bare Winter. (Likely I won't see the nomadic photographer this trip, or maybe ever, and I am becoming more readily ok with that - as I must. He, too, is focusing on his beloveds.)

And, since we were already headed in that direction to get home, we capitalized on already being in New Jersey and stopped in Fort Lee for a Korean dinner (the parentals like Korean) - a new-to-us small city, leading to a circumstance-selected restaurant that was fantastic! Kooksoo Noodles delivered (once we figured out how - tech-enabled screen selection - and what to order; rolling with the new waves...), and yielded for most of us leftovers for another meal.

A most wonderful way to spend an unexpectedly warm and sunny day. Almost perfect.

Micro Climate, Micro Harvest

Microclimate of a New York City terrace garden producing its final greens.

New York City is a heat island - its own little warmer ecosystem because of the concrete and density of the city. Trees, plants, gardens mitigate that heat island effect, to a degree, bringing the city closer to its natural state. My little terrace garden is often quite cooler in temperature than it is at street level, so I'm regularly reminded of its micro climate. But usually, I only sense it via short term temperature memory.

Today, though, it became visually evident, aurally, too. As I sat working, looking out at the sunny blue sky, I heard water, sounding like a leak from somewhere unseen. Flowing through the building pipes to signal the start of heat season? But it was too early for that; the heat's not due to come on for some weeks yet. Then I saw the accumulated drops on the windows and door, so I got up to see - and capture - the rain falling seemingly only over my (rather unkempt - hence why there hasn't been a wide view in awhile) terrace, with sunshine and bright blue skies a mere half block to the north. Just bizarre.

Well, as long as the weather patterns keep nourishing my little garden, that continues to produce, though less and less. There was still amaranth for a micro harvest yesterday...

... for amaranth rice - a spin on the more common spinach rice. 

It was topped with truffled salami that was too much for a charcuterie board from a gathering some months back. 

I don't usually eat meat anymore, but this was already purchased, and needs to be consumed at some point - we don't waste food in these parts; the animal already sacrificed itself, so best to honor that sacrifice. We are also all about quick and easy meals here. There's a time and place for food prepared with care and precision; evenings with long To Do lists are not those times.

Swan Song

Final kayak outing, accompanied by swans.

Last weekend turned out to be the last paddle of the season. Fittingly, it was graced by swan sightings.

One week ago was much like today - rainy; Sunday had promised to be better - merely cloudy, cooler and more windy than it had been, autumnal. With the mandate to remove all vessels and empty all lockers by today, and once the forecasters called today's rain, the task of moving the 3 kayaks and the canoe and all the accessories and equipment seemed less odious on the non-rainy Sunday, even if it meant losing a paddling day today if the weather turned good. Glad we made that decision.

But with the wind and choppy water, no one else wanted to go out. So it was just me, greedy for a final time this year on the water. It was a bit windy, but the rash guard helped there....

... And once I warmed up paddling, it wasn't bad at all. Visibility was clear to the Bronx.... 

And then there were the swans... 

... - only one caught here, as close as I dared come so as to not startle it.

And then paddling back, the cloud cover parted enough to cast some bright rays onto the bay. Lovely final outing.

Till next year on the water!