by baad lamb
Waiting for the overhyped and underwhelming Irene to arrive, I was up very early on Saturday morning and took a long slow stroll in Central Park.
There was a grey sky, a gentle mist and a rich green glow all about, as grasses caressed shrubs that tickled trees, all pasted together by the thin swirls of a late August algae bloom on The Lake.
Whatever whooshing, whirring, chattering clatter the media were shouting, here there was nothing but an eerie, patient and soothing calm.
With no sun to drain their intensity, these Monarda tufts were noticeably defiant in the predicted face of botanical-beating danger.
They set the example for the Lobelia, who were not afraid to stand up even taller than their herbal tea brothers and sisters.
But somewhere in the still, algae-dusted soup of Wagner Cove, an even greater green-leaf threat than today's forecast was quietly stating its imminent, unmistakeable and unstoppable arrival.
Autumn.
Glorious and bittersweet. Carefully creeping on cool evening breezes when windows are open; emphatically proclaiming Summer's end in a chemical explosion of chlorophyl-busting color.
So the pokeweed and the clerodendron continue their work, preparing their babies not for the possibility of hyped-up hurricanes, but for the inevitable common-coldness of the New York City Winter.
Chris, very poetic and beautiful. Be glad the "predicted face of botanical-beating danger" never arrived. I do recognize most of these locations. I'm surprised you did not photograph any of the empty streets or closed Starbucks! That is as rare as a spoonbill in Central Park! I hope I can get down there to visit you before all those leave change color and fall of the trees! Well written and well done! Thanks for this peek at the queer state of affairs in NY!
ReplyDeleteChris, I read down and saw that some others covered the empty street and storm hype so I see that your post is in contrast to theirs. Once again, nicely done!
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