I’m not sure you’re aware, but the wind chill factor right now is 22. Fahrenheit. Winter has already compelled me to begin eating more, months before its official arrival — I type this with my arms on either side of a huge bowl of polenta.

The wind is stripping bare some of the least cold-resistant trees as the tougher ones greedily grasp their yellowing leaves. There’s a serious draft in here, so I can feel the wind blowing. The sky is gray and there’s little visibility — St. Mark’s Lutheran is hazy and I’m sure if these two new buildings hadn’t sprouted over the summer in my back yard, blocking my snippet of a view, Manhattan would be an ashen blob.

If you look closely you can see a tarp in the large tree above. It’s been there about a year, from when they first began the building on the right. It blew up there one day and nobody has bothered to take it down. I know it’s high but damn.