The Bluebirds of Wall Street

The news on the television is pretty grim these days. I’ve decided not to watch. I have moved my laptop from my desk to the kitchen table where I can watch the colors change while I work.

In most places, yesterday was a gray and drizzly day, but here, we are a bit above the clouds so it became the most amazing show of light and color as the trees have begun to blaze.

There is an odd and interesting phenomenon that veteran foliage-watchers know: that the colors in the trees become more vivid on rainy or foggy days. They shine out from the gloom. Throughout the day, the clouds moved in and out, vestiges of sun, literally from first light to end of day.

The colors seemed to be changing before my eyes. The mountain changes first, I presume because it’s colder up there. Then the trees in the foothills. Right now, the oaks are still strongly green but the maples and the ash and the poplars burn reds and yellows.

This morning, or, just now, bluebirds have descended, a surprise. I have not seen them all summer. Six or seven perched on the wire across the road after making several happy loops and one came to rest on the back of the lawn chair that sits right outside the kitchen window. I love their rosy chests. I had a good chat with this bright fellow as he lingered. I take all this as a positive sign.