From the category archives:
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
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Today I went through the book shelves trying to find duplicates and other books I could donate to Betterworld.com so that I can make the bookshelves look nice and not so haphazardly crowded so that someone will see the apartment on Sunday and say, “What lovely orderly bookshelves! Why, I think I’ll buy this apartment!”
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Here’s the link:
http://newyork.timeout.com/articles/nyc-in-pictures/78130/cathleen-schine-author
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It’s been a while, but here is what I have to say:
I’m still reading Tristram Shandy. I have been reading Tristram Shandy for about fifteen years, but now I’m well into it. And still nothing has happened! But I just read a great passage on noses. There are many great passages on noses in Tristram
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Our wonderful friend Anne, who is a curator, took us to the old Huntington Hartford Museum which is now the Museum of Art and Design.Do not miss the three floors of re-purposed art. And best of all was the impossibly delicate and tender work of Yuken Teruya. The trees are cut out of paper bags.
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At this moment, when my thumbs are aching with arthritic political-blog-and-economic-news-blog fatigue, I am taking a moment out of my compulsive useless gorging to post this picture of one of my favorite plants in Riverside Park. The color is so space-age, Victorian, impossible, old-fashioned, , girly, old-lady, futuristic, intimate and neon.
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What I heard:
I heard the first cicadas in Riverside Park
I heard a taxi meter rattling on West End Avenue; it sounded like a cicada
I heard leaves hissing as a rain storm blew down the Hudson
I heard an irate taxi driver honk his horn for three blocks; he had right of way, it’s true, but still…
What
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What I saw this week:
I saw, and read, Joseph Roth’s brilliant collection of journalism (as it should be written) about pre world war II Berlin, called What I Saw. The Radeztky March by Joseph Roth is on of the great novels of the 20th century. I had never read his journalism, though. This book reminds
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This evening when I walked the dog, there was what could charitably called a briney smell coming from the river. Well, I’m feeling charitable, so I will call it that. Then I walked up the little hill, made the turn at the playground, admired the white billowy hyrangeas and then…between 81st and 80th…the Linden trees!
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I just took the dog out for a walk and for just a second the breeze came up from Riverside Park and brought with what I have been waiting for all spring: the intoxicating scent of Linden trees.
Then it disappeared.
But that means there will be more tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after
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