The Conservancy Garden was very blossomy when we were there, but I hear the wind has blown most of them away. We’re in Venice, CA right now where the blossoms have given way to fat roses, but it’s colder than NYC and also gorgeously windy.
And here, as pretty as any blossom that ever blossomed, are two Afghans photographed by my friend Susan Rennie, a wonderful photographer of all things Venice and all things dog. Check out her other photos here.
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Years ago, when my first marriage was coming unglued, I went back to a wonderful therapist on the Upper West Side, at 10:00 in the morning on Tuesdays. And I had another appointment at 1:00 on Tuesdays with a Couples Therapist on the Upper East Side, with my – then – husband. There wasn’t enough time to go all the way downtown to my office on 20th Street – do anything meaningful – and get all the way back uptown by 1:00. So I came to a plan: No matter the weather, I would walk from West 95th Street through the park to the Conservancy Gardens. I would bring my lunch, sit and reflect, and walk on to the second therapist in time for my next appointment.
This exercise began in the early fall, and the flowers were all vivid with end of the season beauty. For some reason, the roses and hydrangea seem even more spectacular than earlier in the summer. At least to me, at least that Autumn. I sat on the bench and ate my tuna sandwich and thought it was the most beautiful a garden could possibly be. I wished that it wouldn’t change – I wished it would stay just that way. Always. And then came deep Fall, and the leaves began to change and the berries appeared and the mums and the late dahlias bloomed, and I wished it would stay just that way. Forever.
I was always afraid, when I left, that I’d seen it as its best. I would try to not be so literally full of fear that next week, the chances of holding on to this beauty – just his way — were so slim. But next week came and the flowers might be replaced by colored leaves so rich you couldn’t imagine comparing them to flowers. And then the snow, outlining the form and elegance of the architecture in a coat of white. Maybe this is the most beautiful, I would think. And then the buds! My goodness, how had I never noticed buds on trees before — Can a flower really be as beautiful as a bud, I thought? And so it went. Each week more wonderful than the week before.
In the sun. In the rain. In the snow. In the cold. I sat on the same bench and I ate my tuna sandwiches and somewhere along the way, I stopped being afraid that the changes in life were all going to be so very horrible. As talented or caring or skillful or well-meaning as my therapist were (and they were all of that) through this devastating time, nothing really prepared me for life “after the fall” like the Conservancy Gardens.
Two years ago I made a vow to try to get my gang at my office up to the Conservancy Gardens once a season. Our track record has not be so good. We’ve only made it twice -And this Spring seems to be getting away from us too. That’s what happens when you have two book launches in one office! But the Cathleen’s note here on her blog reminded me to get them all bundled up the Lexington Avenue line with lunch packed for a good bench – very very soon. Clearly, I know better than most — there is no bad time to visit.
Diane Meier
Um, Diane, could you please write my blog from now on?
Wow, I just read Diane’s comment and was very moved by it because I too have been touched by my daily visits to Riverside Park in a similar way. Consistent activity has it’s rewards. I should come on Cathy’s site more often!