New York City, December 13, 2016

★★★★Even the five-year-old, who’d been the last to abandon shorts at the previous change of seasons, asked for a sweater. The ongoing shuffle of coats made it necessary to hunt in the pockets for the pack of gum. Thin clouds muted the color of the sky, but the sun was bright and reverberant in midday. A driver buffed his Escalade across from the Tavern on the Green, catching the light. Two clapping flights of pigeons curved over the walkway. The Park was quiet enough and empty enough to hear conversations between cyclists going by, or the slightly offset CLAP-clap CLAP-clap of the carriage horses. Sitting out on a bench was pleasant for long enough to drink a cup of coffee, if it was a small one.