Disconnected
I'm pleased that my trip abroad has left me changed, but I'm feeling a bittersweet disconnect with Cleveland right now. I can read your blogs, I can read the paper, but what I really want is someone to describe to me the feeling in Cleveland right now - how is the autumn coming on, how does the Lake look, how are civic energies at play? Give me a thumbnail description - something visceral, something honest. Tell me, tell me, whoever can.
posted by Christine Borne at 4:19 PM
8 Comments:
The berries are ripe on the small trees that form a hedge at the Green Road Rapid Station, and they are alive with twittering sparrows. The chipmunks continue to chirp away from resonant nooks, the geese honk overhead on their way south, and the squirrels are looking awfully plump.
Well, here's something.
Honestly, it feels like Cleveland is not happy with its neighbors to the east. There is a nasty bit of construction between me and Cleveland. Perhaps it may be a prelude to setting up Ashtabula County as an insane asylum?
Otherwise life rolls on during this "silly season" where little is going on except for leaves falling and worrying about when the "Lake Erie Snow Machine" is going to freeze over.
The air is just starting to smell like dead leaves, both dry and wet, the squirrels are fat and suspicious of anyone who might steal their nuts, kids are laughing their way home walking from school since it isn't too cold yet.
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During the morning drive down I271, the sun hits the trees around 7:15 am. On a clear day, when the sun hits the trees, the colors are like ripples of flame across a green ocean of leaves. You can just feel how spectacular it's going to be in about two weeks.
On warmer mornings, a thick fog smothers the Cuyahoga Valley. Travelling over the valley on one of the high bridges is like driving through a bank of clouds. The world is clear, then white, then clear again.
I feel like Wolverine looking at Sabretooth...I see something familiar yet perverse. Something that I am and something I never want to become...
More later, time for work...
Last Thursday evening, as we left the place where we had dinner, we looked out to the sunset and waved goodbye to summer, because we knew that overnight The Change would come that made NE Ohio confront Autumn head-on. And exept for an hour here or there, it's been slate grey skies since - the kind that holds both dread of the long, grey winter and a kind of familliar comfort, like an old, stained blanket that you keep telling yourself every year that you should toss out but just can't let go of.
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