I love the showy season of the autumn gingko every year. Leaves announcing its start fall just outside my apartment building. It's golden color contrasts sharply against the drab brick. It's pretty much done now, clinging on to just a few bright yellow leaves but the others in the courtyard are still going through their different phases, further down there's one that still has a little green. At night the courtyard lights showcase their arching branches and their golden display.
I saw a kid jumping onto the fallen fruit, popping them like bubblewrap and noticed a Chinese couple foraging for them in Central Park. "What do you do with them?" I asked the man. He was pressing the fruit removing some of the pulp. "We cook, with it, but it smells strong" he said. I peered into the lady's trolley bag full of fruit. This morning there was a Gingko leaf just outside my apartment door, having hitched a ride up with a neighbor. My dog sniffed it and I appreciated its single iconic shape against the dark slate floor.