Between us, I expected a little more from the first weekend of Autumn 2020. but like so much else over the last six or so months, what was not to be was, indeed, not to be.
We'd had a return of summer temperatures (almost) and summer skies earlier in the week that carried over into Saturday but when I set off for a walk to the Harbor late yesterday morning (those Bayern Munich vs. TSG Hoffenheim soccer matches aren't going to watch themselves, you know), we'd had a little bit of precipitation that added a lot of humidity to the air and a somewhat somber and grey canopy overhead as I made my way down Washington Street.
In my younger days, it's a walk that I could do in about eighteen minutes but the calendar with my younger days was discarded a long time ago and it seems every time now when I make this hike it takes longer and longer. Perhaps, without my knowledge, the city fathers (and others) have made Norwich larger. I really should ask about that, I suppose.
The waters of the Yantic and Shetucket Rivers that form the Norwich Harbor were as slate-grey as the sky above them and even the waterfowl in forlorn search of a handout only reluctantly settled into the water. It was a good day to walk up all of Broadway with the downtown (such as it is) at your back, past the Little Plains Park, the Cathedral of Saint Patrick, and follow Broadway back to Chelsea Parade stopping as I do every year to take a picture of a tree in a front yard of people I once knew. The tree remains but they are gone.
As I neared Lincoln Avenue I was struck by the differences in the turning of the leaves on two different branches of the same tree. Sadly beautiful but also beautifully sad.
-bill kenny
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