Kale arrives. By the truckload. Three Mexican gardeners were inside its cab, giggling their heads off at me as I walked by. I wonder how much kale they've planted this month? Cease and desist, I say. Actually, I quite like it. In moderation. But not landlocked in deserts of mulch...
The locusts are dripping yellow leaves at the moment, followed closely by elms. Time to head back to the parks?
The best thing I ever did with fresh pomegranate juice was reduce it and drizzle it over some pan-seared foie gras, a long time ago. Now that you can't take two steps in a supermarket without tripping over the bottled juice it has lost its appeal. I still like eating whole bowlfuls of the juicy seeds, though. But not at three bucks a pop.
Zelkova trees, the only time of year when they look good.
And the golden raintree in Cobble Hill Park. In summer it looked like this. It turned this colour only at the end of November last year. Might this predict a severe winter (we want snow! we want snow!)? Or is it because of the dry summer?