The tree-lined streets on the Upper East Side were decked out in poofy white clouds, otherwise known as Callery Pear trees. I've been longing for days like this, during the darkest and coldest days of winter. I am a little stunned that my wishes have come true, finally.
When I returned home from my sister's place on Sunday, I had a Very Long List of Things I Must Absolutely Do. I had every intention of Doing them. But the sun had different ideas, and within minutes of my return home its tendrils gently loosened my fingers from my pen and turned off my computer and paused my iTunes. I floated out of the apartment and down the stairs on the sun rays, and eventually found myself on the street, walking in the direction of the park, immersed in the beauty of the season.
Carl Schulz Park is not nearly as grand as its neighbor to the west. It has its own special merits, though, and is worthy of the neighborhood. A special treat is the view of the East River:
The playground was full of little ones, and had wonderful chalk drawings of every type:
I took a nap in the grass for an hour or so, read a bit, and wrote in my journal. I felt at peace. I needed this time more than I had realized.
Walking home, I passed a charming cafe:
It lived up to its name, with a very welcoming place for dogs as part of its outdoor seating:
Annie Dillard wrote that "how we spend our days is of course how we spend our lives."
And also: "Spend the afternoon. You can't take it with you."
A fine afternoon, indeed.
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