Relatedly, James and I finally made it to Roosevelt Island a few weeks ago. We stood face to face with the smallpox hospital I’ve only wondered at from a distance and explored the new FDR memorial. But my very favorite part was a wander through the golden last chapter of the wildflower meadow where curled up cocoons of Queen Anne’s Lace and echinacea and black-eyed susans and golden rod have put on their fall colors and the wild aster is still cloaked in purple.
You know it’s been too long since you’ve spent a proper fall day outside when you can’t remember the last time you pulled burrs from your hair and coat lining.
Here, encouragement to log as many burr-pulling days as possible. When the germy side of October shows its face—and it will—you can embrace the longer nights with big bowls of chili and flickering candles, and flannel pajamas and use your stored up blue-sky days for dreaming.