During a beautiful rainy walk in Riverside Park the other day, I saw a coupe of juncos–what I know as slate-colored juncos, because that’s what Roger Tory Peterson calls them. I looked them up on my fab iphone birdwatching app so I could listen to their all, and I couldn’t find them because they are called something completely different. It was very vexing. But juncos are so pretty with their tiny yellow beaks and that jaunty flash of white when they fly. The reason I was out walking in the rain was that People had come to look at the apartment. People keep coming, which means we live under marshal law and keep the place in perfect order, not easy for three people who who work at home. I have very mixed feelings about these People. I want them to love the apartment, to ooh and ahh and be bowled over have their socks knocked off. I want them to make us fabulous offers, hundreds of thousands of dollars above the asking price, to become engaged in a heated bidding war, to bribe us with Billy Cort Salmon champagne the 500 dollar Fry boots I want. On the other hand, whoever heard of 500 dollar Fry boots and how dare people come looky lou at our house and think they can wrench it from our tightly clasped hands?
The rain was a steady drizzle and the sky was the kind of slate gray that made the colors impossibly bright. Janet and Hector and I wandered around, some of us exclaiming at the beauty, others of us peeing, until we took shelter in the Boat basin Cafe. It was empty and closed, but the strings of lights were lit up and the blue and white checked table clothes were on the tables and it was dry and quiet and beautiful sitting in the gloom listening to the rain and watching the boats sway in the wind. Yet another remarkable day in New York City. Here are some pictures:
