The weather’s been warm, or what passes for warmth in our state of ever-diminishing expectations. Fifty, fifty-two; cloudless sky; mellow sun. Most of the trees are now participating, although a few just go from green to dull green, like adults invited to a costume party who prefer to put on an old pair of glasses and consider that sufficient. Sunday winds separated the hardy from the weak, stripping some trees with the frenzy of starved piranhas.
Pictures, too.