As a New Englander, summer was always followed by autumn and then foliage season. Late autumn and winters in Quincy were often dreary. When we came back from two weeks in Israel in November of 1970, by father noted that it took six weeks until he saw the sun again. The fabulous colors of fall were like color insurance against the drear of the cold weather months.
There was a maple at the end of the block that used to begin turning color before Labor Day. Most of the trees turned color later in the fall. We used to go for walks to take in the color. As a little girl my sisters and I used to collect leaves and press them in books. Often those leaves would fall out of books as I reread them months or years later.
While Manhattan has lots of trees, there are not all that many sugar maples in my neighborhood. My trip to visit my mother has fed some of my hunger for the changing leaves of the season.
One of the major reasons my mother chose her apartment was for the view.
The sky was a wonderful spooky slate grey that made the trees appear to glow. My mother kept commenting on how beautiful the trees were.
My mother’s pretty things on the window sill are a nice contrast to the view.
Now that I’m back home, even Broadway has a bit of leaf peeping to offer.