The world changed last night while I slept.
Clement Park went from a green and sunny spot, to a cool place, a place where one wears a hoodie, a place where the ground crunches under your foot with the shattering of a hundred yellow and red and brown leaves. The grass is starting to thin and the sky was that knife-blue/silver that always signals the point of no return for me. The calendar may say Summer, at least for a few more weeks, but the colors and smells and sounds have Fall written all over them. In less than a month, Clement Park will be naked and empty and windier. But hey, at least my view of the mountain will be better.
The Boys of Summer will be gone...
...and Old Lady Autumn will be movin' in.
As if the downright cool temps weren't enough of a change this morning, the park was overtaken by two different groups, powerful enough, apparently, to push out even the kiddie football and soccer clubs. First, the Buddy Walk was going on all over the park, on the sidewalks and in fields. One woman we passed was lost, looking for the registration area, which was not at Clement Park, but at the library just down the street. She asked me for directions and when we came to the top of the hill and I pointed out the library, maybe a quarter of a mile away, she went on a tirade about how far away it was. Duncan and I continued on our way, listening to her call someone to complain about how far she had to walk just to register. Good thing she volunteered for the Buddy Walk.
Not only were the sidewalks taken up by Buddy Walker (or Bitchers), but the parking lots had been invaded by the Old Car Council of Colorado. Turns out it was All Ford Weekend, so the parking lots were full of old Mustangs and other cars, some older than grandparents, all in wonderful, shiny condition.
They even had a famous car, or rather, a car made famous by the man who drove it.
That's one of the cars Mel Gibson drove in The Road Warrior
Duncan could've cared less about all of this. He just wanted to find a nice quiet place to do his business.