The downtown skyline wavered in the August haze.
Were the Canadian wildfires back? A few times over the past week, I thought I smelled smoke, or maybe it was just that I had read something somewhere that suggested that the smoke was coming back. It’s hard to know anything these days.
I stopped to admire a rose bush that’s been growing along the banks of the Hudson for as long as I’ve been running here.
I once bumped into an old college friend who lives on the Upper West Side. When he told me he liked to walk up to the bridge and take photographs, I asked him if he had seen the rose bush, and he nodded enthusiastically. It was like we were talking about a mutual friend. “I love that guy!”
For years, near the base of the bridge, there’s been a small triangle of land that has always been mowed (and sad). This year, the Parks Department transformed it into a small garden that’s now bursting with brown-eyed susans and other flowers.
It was nice to see an explosion of color where previously there had been a patchy brown lawn. I thought about my mother’s garden, which is similarly overflowing with brown-eyed susans.
I also thought about my fantasy of replacing a row of parking spaces on my block (and on every block) with a native perennial garden. Why aren’t we doing this?
A few spaces (maybe even one!) would be enough to start. This entire plot of land was probably no bigger than three or four parking spots.
If I’m ever in a position to retire, I think this will be my cause.
