September has been something to endure. And that’s being cheerful about it.
When the gate’s open, I step in for a few shots.
I keep meaning to just ask someone if I can come in.
I’d like to get shots of all of it before I move.
Crazy Sign Person went into re-runs.
I remember when summer meant marigolds
Speaking of memory, the night depository is a relic now, right?
Returning from the bank in the early morning, I saw an apple on the sidewalk.
Then I went out to Port Jefferson. I always walk to the LIRR now as well. My legs are cheaper and still more reliable than the subway.
Down the drain and on the street.
Hot Pink. Not the ideal way to keep Victoria’s Secret.
(October 10) Having avoided them for fear of death from age eight until last year, Tony has developed quite a thing for the apple since discovering they don’t trigger his food allergies. With that in mind, we set out on a quest for pommes.
According to Tony, you’re looking at the only espresso on the east coast worth drinking.
After a false start, we found apples to pick from trees (and not baskets).
The more I look at these photos, the more they remind me of my childhood.
Of course the wild apples of my childhood weren’t fit to eat, but they looked vaguely similar.
Apples everywhere. Despite the brisk business, it’s hard to believe they make enough now for the year.
Tony’s so happy he almost exploded.
It’s quite a view to have from your backyard.
All I could think was “Who is Peg Leg Bates?
This pothole took out the mighty Volvo.
Tony was just relieved no apples were harmed, though two tires were blown out.
Hah hah hah. The hook up, eh? Not quite what springs to mind.