Bird Song & Traffic
Oh my goodness is it beautiful out. I mean, SO BEAUTIFUL. You almost can't take it. This weekend I felt like I was running around like a chicken with her head cut off, because it was warm and beautiful, but there was still a part of me used to the crummy and cramped weather. It was like spending the last few months starving to death and then suddenly being faced with a banquet of food. I FORGOT how to eat. It was wonderful, but confusing.
Luckily, by the time yesterday rolled around, I was READY to really soak up the spring that had arrived. I did something I had dreamed about when I was working full time and prone to such PANGS of yearning. I got up early on a WEEKDAY, packed a bag and went to Central Park to lay on a blanket and read and write. As it turned out, I spent most of yesterday on a green slope of grass, surrounded by sunbathers, birds, cherry blossoms, and American Elms. It was SPECTACULAR. Central Park may be one of my favorite places in the world. In a city that is both exciting and relentless, it feels like a necessary oasis that brings the feeling of relief and humanity when you enter its green gates. I remember taking my dad there when he was visiting in October and he breathed a sigh of relief and said, "Oh, THIS is how people live here." It's both beautiful and magical.
At 10:15 in the morning I arrived on the Upper West side, with the sun rising above the buildings. I love being out in the mornings, because everything feels so sweet and fresh. There weren't a ton of people out because it was just after rush hour. I entered the park, passing the tourists at Strawberry Fields, snapping pictures of the IMAGINE circle. By 10:30, I was laying on a blanket, listening to bird song and traffic, with my shoes off. I had fruit and water with me, two books, my journal and some pens. It was HEAVEN.
At lunchtime I took a break and met my friend Michael, who took me to an old Italian deli for lunch. On the way we saw Alan Alda and his wife strolling the warm streets. After a courtyard lunch of a sandwich and an iced cappuccino with chocolate ice, we went back to the park and lay on the blanket, talking about writing and books and relationships.
When I came back home, I wasn't ready to be inside. So Graham and I went out to dinner and sat in another courtyard and I drank an ice cold pomegranate martini which was sour and delicious. I felt like it was one of those perfect days, and I wanted to savor everything. And you know for once, I wanted to savor something, and I did.
Happy spring everybody.
Luckily, by the time yesterday rolled around, I was READY to really soak up the spring that had arrived. I did something I had dreamed about when I was working full time and prone to such PANGS of yearning. I got up early on a WEEKDAY, packed a bag and went to Central Park to lay on a blanket and read and write. As it turned out, I spent most of yesterday on a green slope of grass, surrounded by sunbathers, birds, cherry blossoms, and American Elms. It was SPECTACULAR. Central Park may be one of my favorite places in the world. In a city that is both exciting and relentless, it feels like a necessary oasis that brings the feeling of relief and humanity when you enter its green gates. I remember taking my dad there when he was visiting in October and he breathed a sigh of relief and said, "Oh, THIS is how people live here." It's both beautiful and magical.
At 10:15 in the morning I arrived on the Upper West side, with the sun rising above the buildings. I love being out in the mornings, because everything feels so sweet and fresh. There weren't a ton of people out because it was just after rush hour. I entered the park, passing the tourists at Strawberry Fields, snapping pictures of the IMAGINE circle. By 10:30, I was laying on a blanket, listening to bird song and traffic, with my shoes off. I had fruit and water with me, two books, my journal and some pens. It was HEAVEN.
At lunchtime I took a break and met my friend Michael, who took me to an old Italian deli for lunch. On the way we saw Alan Alda and his wife strolling the warm streets. After a courtyard lunch of a sandwich and an iced cappuccino with chocolate ice, we went back to the park and lay on the blanket, talking about writing and books and relationships.
When I came back home, I wasn't ready to be inside. So Graham and I went out to dinner and sat in another courtyard and I drank an ice cold pomegranate martini which was sour and delicious. I felt like it was one of those perfect days, and I wanted to savor everything. And you know for once, I wanted to savor something, and I did.
Happy spring everybody.
posted by Summer Pierre at
10:00 AM
5 Comments:
This post has been removed by the author.
Nice, nice, nice! I just fell back into your blog via Keri Smith and I'm so glad to be here! I was watching your something, anything, for 30 days last fall and tried to do-along, but lapsed.
I'm in Brooklyn, too - I'd really love to get the low-down on where to find that Pomegranite Martini.
I told Julie this...
I had a dream, and you were in it. We were sitting on my desk, while Julie talked to Darshan or somebody, I dunno... I asked you "how do you like living in NYC?"
And you got this HUGE grin on your face, and I swear you were glowing! You got so excited and you couldn't form the words until, I assume, a million images passed through your head; reasons why you loved the city so much. Then, using big, descriptive words, you told me how great it was.
I think I'm jealous. ;)
-Amanda in Santa Cruz, CA
Ms. Ambercake--
glad to see you here! Run don't walk to Dumont. It's on the Lorimer stop of the L line. If you eat meat, they have the best cheeseburgers EVER. Actually, everything they make is yummy. It's my favorite Brooklyn dinner spot!
Hey, that sounds awesome! The weather's been beautiful where I'm living nowadays, too. Can't say I've ever tried an ice cold pomegranate martini, but sounds great. That's really funny that you saw Alan Alda. I'd probably want to ask him how close his political beliefs are, in reality, to the candidate he played on the West Wing. But he probably gets that all the time. -- My dad's opened up a really chi-chi, fru-fru hair styling place and cafe in NYC, in the former Meat Packing area -- not the type of place I'd usually go for lunch, and there's no courtyard, alas, but it's called Arium if you want to check it out. (I'm pretty sure that you, like me, would never spend so much money on a haircut). Phil owns an extremely expensive condo near St. Mark's Place and NYU and all that.
Rock On...
Post a Comment
<< Home