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It is not usual for us to venture out in the afternoon but on Friday, in a mad moment, that is what we did.
It was a lovely day for a drive and I needed to drop my ballot off, given that I don’t have enormous faith in the postal service.
Those ballot boxes aren’t totally reliable either in fact, given that anyone who disapproves of them can simply pick them up and take them elsewhere.
Unlikely here.
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We headed north through Greenwich.
One route follows a canal. Grant thought the parallel alternative would be quieter.
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The foliage still has a long way to go.
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The sumac makes a pretty picture though, with the sky offering a nice backdrop.
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While we are surrounded by hills, there are also wide flat expanses that always take my breath away.
When I first came to New York in 1964, I felt very vulnerable in these open spaces, as if a wind would carry me off into outer space.
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It didn’t make me anxious.
It was just an unfamiliar sensation.
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There were plenty of unfamiliar sensations about that time many of which made me decidedly anxious!
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Up until that time, I had been educated in convent schools. I had never been in a class of more than 20 students. I don’t know how many were in that graduating class in 1965, but it was certainly several hundred.
Another major difference: it was co-ed.
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The system of education was entirely different to either the French or English systems I had experienced, which was fairly challenging as well.
However, during the preceding eight years, I had become very accustomed to quite considerable changes. I had always managed to adjust.
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In the course of those eight years, I had met many Americans. They had all been friendly and engaging. But the kids I met at high school were entirely different. They did not even acknowledge me, which brought back uncomfortable memories from an earlier school experience.
Senior year of high school is a tough time for kids and by then they had no doubt formed their individual alliances. And they were preoccupied with their particular interests.
Homecoming, cheer leading. What the hell was a “pep rally”? I had no idea what any of that was.
I was so out of place!
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Some trees, it seems have fast-forwarded to winter.
We got a good look at these while waiting at roadworks. And waiting. And waiting.
Periodically a column of traffic came the other way.
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Very likely, we’d still be sitting there, but when it became clear that our side was never going to be given the go, Grant pulled the car over and turned to go back the other way.
The traffic behind us extended for a considerable distance!
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We nipped down the road and made a left turn which confused me as I’d thought the alternate route was the other way. Luckily my navigation skills are not required these days.
If they were, I’d keep them brushed up!
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Oh no, a school bus. The witching hour!
It was the last we saw of one, fortunately.
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School buses also take me back to 1964. Till then I’d never encountered such a thing, but there I was that September afternoon outside school trying to figure out which one to get on. I hadn’t been told.
Kids were streaming out of class and piling in. Who could I ask? It was easier just to walk home.
My aunt had dropped me off, my first day, feeling sorry for me, but next day I caught the bus and made a note of the number, so that solved that problem.
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After graduating, I was glad to see the back of that bus. Little did I know that it would feature heavily for many more years of my life.
At Kennedy Airport, the transport to the staff car park was none other than a repurposed school bus.
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Occasionally, when the bus needed servicing, we got a temporary replacement and once someone seemed keen on having fun at our expense.
The substitution on that occasion was a kiddie bus, designed for small children. Bundled up in down parkas against the chill, it was a tight fit.
Winters were much colder back then.
We all but perished waiting for the B2.
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One time though, we were obliged to walk to the lot because there had been an unprecedented rainstorm that had flooded all the underpasses.
In consequence, the whole airport was shut down and it being a Saturday in summer, rather a lot of passengers were stranded.
But that was alright. They came back to see us again the next day, along with all of Sunday’s lot.
One of those people marched up to complain that he’d been waiting on line for half an hour!
We explained that most of the others had been waiting 24 and a half. But of course bad weather was something the airlines concocted to screw up their passengers.
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At Fort Edward, I dropped my ballot in the box.
It ought really to feel a lot more satisfying.
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Once more on the flat.
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The film director noticed power lines.
He knows they are one of my subjects.
But the moment we slowed down, a car turned onto the road behind us, so it was another rushed shot.
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I didn’t even notice those birds on the wires!
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Pumpkins.
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Shadows were beginning to lengthen.
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Lovely yellow trees in Greenwich.
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Conveniently, we had to stop at a light.
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Then we were coasting back downhill on final approach to home.
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So pretty in late afternoon light.
The trees are so pretty, against the blue sky background!
Thank you for sharing your Fall season travels. 🍁🍂
Thank you, Carolyn, for your wonderful photography!
Janna
I reckon those tress changed colour from when you started out to when you got back home!
trees!
Yes, it does seem that way!
School buses did not feature in my childhood. When we moved out of central London and I had to commute to school I was 15 years old, and had to get two trains and a regular bus each way to school. Having random boxes to drop votes into doesn’t seem right to me. Surely it must lack the element of security we have in UK elections?
Best wishes, Pete.
Yes, see Lynn’s comment!
That tree (the one that looks like a Christmas tree) with its green and orange leaves — it’s beautiful … you probably photographed it at the perfect time. I’m so glad you wanted to go hand in your ballot because you got so many lovely photo opportunities along the way. And in the meantime, the school bus has given you a nice story to tell us – a lovely post full of beautiful photos and a glimpse into earlier years of your life – I particularly enjoy these posts of yours.
Living in Wisconsin, drop boxes are the last place I would put my ballot. Unfortunately! Even though they are required by law to be secure & untouchable, the mayor of Wausau decided on his own to remove it one day. I read that it is now back but is being contested. Sad times for our country! We always vote in person.
Yes. I heard that story. Extraordinary, isn’t it?!