On the edges in October

On a gale-force day we visited Fort Tilden. The autumn olives are still heavy with fruit, their season now in its fifth week. For some reason some trees ripen much, much later than others. Their juicy, sweetly-tart and slightly tannic fruit is delicious. Birds agree, which is why these trees - very invasive, locally - spread so quickly.

The tide was high and foamy and dry sand from the dunes was blasting across the wet beach.

Many people discovered this refuge during the worst days of the pandemic, and summer saw the sand crowded. But today there was no one on the beach, and just one (extremely proficient) kite boarder in the strong waves.

Back in the shelter of the dunes where native bayberry, black cherry and juniper formed a shoreline windbreak, a man with a strong accent told us that the path ahead was blocked by high water. "Do not be deceived," he said, "You cannot pass." He was right. 

So we picnicked, instead. Tomato soup so hot it burned out tongues. But the heat melted the cheese into pleasing strings.

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2 November:

Chrysanthemum Pop-Up Walk, Central Park