Climate Change

On my first, and perhaps only, visit to Cold Spring, I searched for a little something commemorating the disappointing day trip up the Hudson.  The leaves had not turned and antique shops resembled secondhand flea markets.  I stumbled upon a quaint shop devoid of customers.  A bell tinkled when I opened its door.  The scent of leather greeted me as well as rows of colorful leather goods.  I tried on a pair of gloves.  Buttery leather embraced my fingers and I knew I had found my souvenir.  They remain unworn, for like the foliage had stalled, so has the cold weather.

 

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