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.

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:

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!” I was only able to cull about 30 books, and betterworld.com would only accept 3 of the first 10 whose isbn numbers I entered, so I think I may just give them to Paul, the guy who sells books outside of H&H bagels. He picks them up and he always brings me a bagel and coffee. Getting rid of books is very hard. The two things I hoard are books and shoes. Because…you never know when you might just have a yen to read The Hapsburgs by Andrew Wheatcroft wearing the cream-colored suede sneakers that look like bowling shoes that you bought at the Tod’s outlet in Tuscany. What was I thinking? They’re both coming out of their respective reject bags right now. Well, the book is, anyway. It’s illustrated. There’s a wonderful photograph of Emperor Franz Joseph I in hunting clothes that I could not find on google, but while looking for it I did find this photo (See the guy peering out the window?):

Here’s the link:

http://newyork.timeout.com/articles/nyc-in-pictures/78130/cathleen-schine-author