Paris: L’Automne

Yesterday, as I was driving to Parc St. Cloud with Rose, I discovered a great little jazz station at the end of the radio dial, which turned out to be the perfect soundtrack for the day.

As Rose and I walked, I saw the skies go from blue…

to a deep blue-gray.

I wondered if a blue norther –a cold north wind that blows through Texas, drastically dropping temperatures — was on its way. About then, the winds got all crazy, and blew with big gusts one minute, and nothing the next. Lots of leaves whooshed off the trees and fell to the ground. Then, everything got quiet, and one by one, more leaves floated down, too.

Rose did not seem to mind this scenic change at her park, and went about the business of exploration as she usually does.

By the end of the day, it was cold, gray, and dark. They may not call it a blue norther here, but that’s what had blown through. Fall had indeed arrived, and Ella Fitzgerald was singing to me in the car as errant leaves danced in the streets.