The Northern Suburbs

Chicago is an October sort of city even in spring. -Nelson Algren

Wilmette - cobblestone streets and stately elm and maple trees

It's been a wonderful opportunity for me to be here in the northern suburbs of Chicago at this time of the year as my book takes place. Worth returns home to these parts (he's been living in New Jersey) after his mom dies just before Halloween. Although I've probably soaked up enough sensory data in my decades of life here to complete the book, it doesn't hurt to be immersed in this sullen atmosphere just as I'm trying to finish my book. 

So what are my impressions? Primarily, I've noticed that outside of the tragedy of losing his mother, Worth would be inundated by the delightful melancholy of the season, the sense of loss and endings and bittersweet release. Sounds depressing, but with the shocking colors that nature provides as a sort of visual compensation and the macabre silliness of Halloween, it's really quite exquisite . . . in a sad sort of way. Sort of a death-as-a-part-of-the-circle-of-life thing, which is one of the reasons that it's perhaps my favorite time of the year (and, not surprisingly, Worth's).

Although not much of it takes place right on the lakefront, the shore of Lake Michigan in autumn has a singular feel. It's sort of an Uber-October habitat, where waves drown out the sobs and the mist rinses the tears off your cheeks. Okayyyyy, maybe I got carried away there. Suffice it to say that it's as enjoyable for me to be along the lakefront in fall as it is in summer.

A thick bed of leaves carpet the ground just as the gray clouds take up residency for the duration

If this sort of desolation doesn't make you weep openly, you have no heart my friend

Can't you just feel the sand in between your toes and cool October wind on your face

Just for shits and giggles, here's a few other pictures I've taken around the 'burbs:

A pier on the lake

Erin on that same pier on a chilly morning

(I had to fight the impulse to move the red chair in line with the others for this picture)

"Glorious Autumn, thy multi-hued leaves are a harbinger of my own impending demise . . . sweet, sweet bummer" (Longfellow?)