Here are a few photos of the changing colors in the trees in my neighborhood. Yes, the neighborhood filled with the old and weary cars of working-class immigrants (of which my parents would be included, of course), where shards of glass are littered on the streets, where young teenagers spray graphiti on the walls, where cars with expired tags are parked for months on end without moving. Yes, that neighborhood.
I am noticing these bursts of colors. It is fall. Some of the trees are losing their leaves, and another puff of strong wind will lay them bare, but the others in the meantime are putting on a show. Yes, yes, I know, I know, these aren't the wild and riotous colors of New England, but we have to appreciate what we have.
This lot has lain barren for the last 5 or 6 years. They have been trying to sell it, but apparently, the can't. There used to be an old house on it, but they tore it down. It didn't result in any sales. It lies as it is, although at some point, someone will try to claim it, I suspect, as a business property. We will have to watch out for that.
Another lot a few hundred feet away. This one never had a structure on it, it was always an open lot. They have tried to sell it, but no dice. The trees on the left was interesting, but it looks like a rooster frazzled after a cock fight. But I loved the indications of color.
The tree in that middle of that lot. Usually it is a very dark green, it doesn't draw any attention, and as always, this lot is desolate. We have had little rain except for a sprinkle (very brief) a few weeks ago that put some snow on the mountains (very brief). But this bare sandlot is waiting for a project. I hope it remains as it is for a while longer. (I suspect homeless people live under the trees to the right, which do not appear in this photo.)
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