Backyard Fall

Autumn has finally arrived in New York City, at least the vibrant leaf colors I usually associate with fall, and particularly in the little corner of Queens that is our backyard. Recently one morning I opened the back door so that I could take food and water out to the cat. Flaming yellow leaves of the single maple tree growing in our small patch of urban wilderness greeted me, foliage brilliantly illuminated by the morning Sun to the southeast, vibrant translucent gold set against a cloudless dark blue patch of sky that hinted of winter.

Some trees in my Ridgewood neighborhood have already lost most, if not all, their leaves. Other trees are still dressed in full green, holdouts against the season. The tree in our back yard falls into the middle of the spectrum, still holding on to most of its leaves but every leaf offering its previously hidden pigment. If its leaves were fiery red, I would claim the tree was a descendant of Moses’s burning bush, aflame but not consumed. Its leaves are golden yellow however, suggesting this particular tree ought to be sitting at the end of some rainbow and guarded by leprechauns.

Now that the morning temperatures have cooled, I have taken to wearing a hat in the morning when I walk our dog, and I have totally abandoned wearing shorts, a past habit I mourn, as I have surrendered to fall’s onslaught. While the mercury has fallen, the blond leaves on the tree in our back yard lift my spirit whenever I see them, interest paid in advance of winter’s debt. If it were not for this and other such bright spots in what could otherwise be canyons of brick and mortar set amidst concrete and blacktop plains, I would be tempted to crawl into my urban den, not to stir from hibernation until the first hint of spring.

More Sure Signs of Spring

Last friday I noted that welcome signs of spring were becoming evident here in New York City. The crocus I photographed and wrote about last week have bloomed (photo right) and the mercury topped out yesterday above 70 degrees Fahrenheit. Today promises to be a repeat of yesterday, with a mild breeze, clear blue skies, and lots and lots of sunshine.

Another sure sign of spring closer to home is the fact that today I opened the window in the room where I am working, allowing the fresh spring air (and street noise) to replace the stale winter air (and relative quiet) that has been in the house since late fall. I will undoubtedly close the window this evening after dark when the temperature drops, but for now the open window is a welcome environmental change.

A more personal sure sign of spring is that today I am wearing shorts. Regardless of the weather I try to wear shorts at least one day in March, and this is the first day I have worn them since fall. With the temperature pushing 70, it has been a joy to wear them today, along with a short sleeved shirt and a pair of Birkenstocks. The shorts will most likely reappear tomorrow.

I think summer is not far away?

Welcome Signs of Spring

This has been my third winter in New York City and by far it has been the harshest. It has been colder and with more snow, so I have anxiously been waiting, in spite of any ground hog’s prognostication about winter’s lingering, for warmer spring like weather. The lengthening days, with the sun rising around six, and the warmer temperatures, topping out at 60 in Central Park a few days ago, have been teasing me, alerting my senses that spring cannot be far away.

My spirit was lifted this past Wednesday when, even as nearby piles of snow were still melting away, for the first time this season I spotted crocus making their way through the damp, loose soil, as if these little flowering signs of spring were preparing to fend off any last onslaught of winter. They were making their proclamation in the front lawn of North Church Queens, along 154th street, north of Flushing and south of Whitestone. I could not have preached a better sermon from the church's pulpit about new life and resurrection than they.

Demeter must finally be in a better mood. I know that I am now that my very own eyes have seen these heralds of spring.

Fall in the Rock Garden

A few days ago, while I was standing at the kitchen sink washing a few dishes, I glanced out the window into the back yard and was overtaken by the way the early afternoon sun was illuminating the fallen autumn leaves in the rock garden. I grabbed my camera, walked out into the back yard, and shot a few pictures, including the one above. When I showed it to my wife, she said it belonged on a calendar. I thought it belonged on a blog.

I started blogging in the dead of winter, January 5, 2009. At least a couple of my early posts, “Snow in the City” and “Winter’s Last Hurrah” were about winter. Spring was the topic of a post I entitled “Of Lambs and Lions.” To my best recollection I did not write anything about summer, perhaps because I did not have one, or at least was not able to enjoy it. I think I worked part of almost every day throughout the summer, having very few full days off to enjoy the summer by kayaking, climbing or backpacking. In fact, as I look back over the past several months, I wonder “what summer?” Now that it is fall and I am not working as much I am able to enjoy and appreciate the season and even have the time to take photographs of fall leaves in the backyard rock garden.

Randomly distributed brightly colored fall leaves among intentionally arranged rocks must hold some sort of deep, metaphorical and existential meaning, or at least serve as a Zen koan, inviting one to meditate on one’s existence and the meaning of life. What is the sound of one leaf falling? What language do rocks speak?

The Sights and Sounds of 88 Degrees Fahrenheit

This afternoon around 4 PM I rode the “L” into Manhattan and walked around in the vicinity of Grand Central Station and Lincoln Center. I saw a lot more skin than I am used to seeing. Women were wearing short skirts and halter tops. Both men and women were wearing shorts and t-shirts. I saw pink, pale skin, untouched by the sun skin, with one exception. I saw three women with sunburned shoulders sitting near us at the sidewalk café. One of them even had a tube of suntan lotion sticking of her day pack.

Along Columbus and Amsterdam the outdoor sidewalk cafés were packed. It was the first day since mid-autumn that many were even open. We were lucky to find a table for two at Fusion where we enjoyed Karin and sushi al fresco.

Walking home from the subway around 8:30 PM I realized as I was walking through that the neighborhood sounded different than I am used to hearing it. It was no longer quiet. I heard the sounds of Latin beats and other music leaking out of open windows. I heard children laughing and yelling as they played games in their back yards. Apartment dwellers were sitting on the front stoops of row houses and playing cards or just talking.

Today was the first day in a long, long time the temperature rose above 80. The mercury while I was in Manhattan topped out at 88, a degree lower than the record. 84 was the temperature while we were walking home. Tomorrow might be even warmer.

Of Lambs and Lions

When I was a young child I learned an old wives’ tale/superstition that if March comes in like a lion, then it will go out like a lamb, or vice versa. I have seen many March’s come and go but do not remember them all, so I cannot comment of the past reliability of the aphorism. Statistically, there is at least a 50-50 chance that the old wives’ tale/superstition will be true any given year. Given long term weather patterns, the saying might be true even more often than half the time. It sure seems true this year, at least for New York City.

I do not remember what last March 1st was like, but on March 2nd winter descended on the Big Apple with a vengeance, dumping several inches of snow in the city.

Today is a beautiful spring day in the world’s greatest city. The air is crisp, the sky clear blue with just a few clouds, and the slight chill in the air hints of warmer weather to come. It is such a nice day that even my buddy, the tree in the back yard, is smiling. It seems that some old wives were right this year. Today has been a lamb of a day.

On the other hand there is Fargo, North Dakota. Although water levels in the Red River have fallen more than two feet from their record highs of a few days ago, on its last day March in Fargo is like a wild lion, roaring blowing and drifting snow nearing blizzard like conditions. I have no idea how March came into Fargo but I am sure Fargo’s citizens are finding no comfort in superstitions or old wives’ tales.

Winter’s Last Hurrah

Snow flurries welcomed the arrival of spring in the Big Apple. Although the temperature around 7:15 AM was 39 degrees Fahrenheit, snowflakes as large as goose down were falling from the sky, tickling my nose, as I walked my dog Hermes around the neighborhood. Those large white splotches in the picture to the right are the snowflakes that were falling this morning as Hermes and I made our rounds.

Spring officially arrived at 7:44 AM. Today’s high is predicted to be 45 degrees Fahrenheit.

When I was younger I enjoyed all four seasons, taking as much pleasure in x-c skiing and winter backpacking in January as I did in rock climbing on a sun baked rock face or kayaking under clear sunny skies in July. It seems that as I grow older I appreciate summer more than winter.

Snow in the City

Snow has been blowing sideways down the street in front of our home and has been accumulating on the streets and sidewalks since last night. I have been out with the shovel twice, spreading ice melt both times. I am beginning to wonder if it will ever stop snowing. I guess there is only one way to find out: to wait and see.

My wife and I moved to New York City (the Queens neighborhood of Ridgewood) during the summer of 2007. The following winter seemed pretty mild by our West Virginia mountain standards and even locals were saying it was a calm winter. Even though we have seen a little more cold and snow this winter, until last night I thought the worst of winter was behind us. After all, it reached 60 degrees on Friday and 55 degrees on Saturday. I guess Punxsutawney Phil was right. There really were six more weeks of winter on the way. The forecast was for a winter storm dumping eight to fourteen inches in a 24 hour period. I measured nine inches of snow on our back porch where the wind did not blow it away or drift it higher. It was probably ten inches deep when fresh but has had some time to settle. The snow that fell over night and the forecast for more snow today was enough for the City of New York to cancel school for the first time in five years!

This morning, while walking our dog Hermes, I took a few photos to give others an idea of what the world’s greatest city looks like under a blanket of snow. My Sebago Canoe Club paddling body and fellow NOLS Alum John H. has a great time lapse video of the snow falling over night that you might want to view.