Central Park NY at Christmas

Central Park in Manhattan New York, where urban culture meets and mixes with nature, is one of the most visited urban parks in the world. 

A visit in mid December and it is still ebbing and flowing with life and natural beauty. 

The trees stand tall and bare now, but that just shows off the starkness of nature against the backdrop of urban skyscrapers. 

It is an intriguing mix.

The whole park is framed by the city and as the December sun shines, the remaining leaves on the trees and the fallen autumn leaves give a beautiful bronze sheen to a now barren landscape. 

Squirrels scarper down from the trees, they are clearly used to being fed! 

The ice rink is busy ready for the holidays and brightens up the landscape to a festive mood of fun and enjoyment. Horses and carriages parade the parameters leisurely carrying visitors in the crisp December chill. 

Wander along a little further and there is a wonderful Christmas Market on the edge of the park, brimming with a medley of arts and crafts and street foods from all over the world. 

Perfect for some festive shopping. 

Trees glisten in a natural copper haze against the glass of the buildings as you head towards it; they almost beckon you to come along and enjoy yourself. 

A most enchanting place to be on a crisp and sunny December day. 

Last Days of Autumn

The Last Days of Autumn

November and we saw the last of autumn, 

Reds, russets, browns and golds. 

The tree's glorious goodbye,

Before winter falls.

Late autumn sun on the mountains and trees,

Blue skies, fluffy sailing clouds.

In what is now a cool, crisp,

And winter warning Breeze. 

Mosses, so green in summer, 

turned now to a bronze shimmer.

Ready to transform themselves to a protective brown,

As winter's onslaught gives a glimmer.

The last of the fairies toadstools,

Standing tall and bright in the mossy light.

But, like the swifts and the swallows,  

Fairies have disappeared long ago for the long winter night.

Trees stand tall in their barrenness grandeur,

Leaves now all lost at Autumn's end.

Not gone yet though,

They trickle leisurely like a stream,

Until the gales of winter descend.

We will wake in the morning to wintertime,

As the pale twilight of autumn disappears.

As though he knows his own and rightful place,

A robin in all his bright glory suddenly and gently just appears.

©KAGraham