[The following was written back in late November, but I forgot about it. Enjoy it, mid-January. -scikidus]
It's finally here.
The sun sets early over New Jersey, the trees are stuck in post-peak, so the yellow sunlight illuminates the yellow leaves.
Today's Thanksgiving, and it certainly feels like it.
For the first time in years we're making a large chunk of the feast, so the house is filled with the aromas of pumpkin, nutmeg, ginger, and cinnamon.
I'm sitting on my windowsill, and the cool crisp air of fall, air of the season, is lightly blowing in.
It's hardly 2:30, but already the afternoon shadows are long. Trace leaves litter the streets as pedestrians slowly amble down the West Side's characteristic wide sidewalks. The sky is a pure, lightened blue, with one or two faint, wispy clouds added in as an afterthought. The air also carries the faint scent of pine, wafting from the Christmas tree vendors from Canada setting up shop down the block.
Unlike most days in the City, quiet is noticeably more common today, instead of the norm of din. Relatives of strangers arrive, bearing flowers, bags of food, and the occasional headache. For a brief moment in a hectic city, NY license plates are less common.
People are walking slowly, cars are driving slowly.
I'm glad I'm not the only one absorbing the magic of the day.