Last weekend until Christmas. In a way, I’m really glad I’m not working in retail again this year. It really puts a damper on the whole holiday spirit thing.
Remember how I said I was worried about the trees not changing colors this year? Yeah, well, I got my colorful trees… and the cold weather needed for it… ((never happy, am I?))
Waking home, I came across this tree. It’s the only golden one in my area so far. There’s one or two red ones and still quite a few green ones, so this guy stood out.
Quite lovely, isn’t it? The sun filtered though the leaves in just the right way. It reminded me of glitter. So pretty! I really do love this color.
Soon enough, the rest of the trees will be like this one. I hope.
So, the trees have finally started to change, here in New York. For the longest time, I wasn’t sure if we were going to have a colorful fall this year. It seemed that the leaves would simply turn brow and then fall, without changing at all. Until a few days ago, the only colored leaves I could find were ones which had already fallen due to weather conditions. I was beginning to get disappointed.
It’s been a while since I last went down to the city.
Once, I decided to look around Grand Central Terminal and found an old mural painted on a piece of ceiling by one of the track entrances.
While I admit that I’m no expert but bylooking at it, I would guess it was done in either the 20s or early 30s. Maybe even earlier.
It shows men working on the train tracks during the hey-day of the train industry. That was during the turn of the century I think. It’s incredibly faded and caked with cigarette residue (the yellowing) but still very nice to look at.
Unfortunately there doesn’t seem to be any others. For some reason, I have the sinking feeling that they covered over with many layers of paint and that thought makes me kind of sad…
So comes the fall weather…
Today was the first day my area fell into the below 65 degree mark since spring. When I got out of work around 6 (stayed late to help out) it was raining lightly and windy. It wouldn’t have been so bad if there was no wind, but considering that White Plains is known as a city of wind tunnels… well, it didn’t help that I wasn’t dressed for the 50s.
I can only hope that I don’t fall sick because of it.