Photos

Uptown

Had to take this shot, seemed so perfect.

Continuing with this summer’s theme of exploration, I have a billion pictures to share today.

While they’re doing a lot of field trips, Art Child’s summer class has a home base uptown. This is another neighborhood that has kept much of its unique feel, residents more vested in preservation and restoration than demolition and shiny new high-rises. Depending on which person you speak with, or the current real estate market, the area might be called Harlem, or more accurately, Hamilton Heights. It also contains the sub neighborhood of Sugar Hill (remember the Sugar Hill gang? Yup, named for this area. Nope, they were from Englewood, NJ).

In this little area, as you walk around it feels removed from the city, more like the outer reaches of the outer boroughs than northern Manhattan.

In any case, this area contains Alexander Hamilton’s home, open to the public as a museum, and, in my opinion, some of the most stunning architecture and brownstones in the borough.

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And more, no particular order

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On the way home. The architecture changes as you go through the different neighborhoods, but all within a thirty block radius on the west side.

: Yes, a swimming pool. Never seen anyone other than lifeguards in it.

: After a dip you can stop into church

: And then pick out dinner, plucked while you wait.

: I braved a swarm of bees to catch some scenic Manhattan views for you.

: You’re welcome.

Last but not least,

What Was I Saying?

I swear I had a post in my head ready to go, just needed to sit down and type it up. Now that I’m at the keyboard, I can’t remember one word of what I intended to blog about.

Long and busy days here, though I’m not sure what I’ve been so busy with. Not much fun happening, behind on laundry and the fridge is alarmingly empty. Must be mid-summer. Art Child has been busy with her art intensive, and I’ve been trekking all over the borough for drop off and pick up. The other day, I had to meet her in the East Village. A fun neighborhood, one of the few left in Manhattan that still feels like New York, art, artists, small businesses. We weren’t in the fun part, but I got a couple of photos.

Rainbow brownstone

Love this, and I’m not the only one.

What better place for a small theater than an abandoned Catholic school?

Some neighborhoods still have interesting graffiti

Hi there.

To get to that area from my apartment is kind of a haul, required train transfers and many flights of stairs to get from one station to another without leaving the subway and having to pay another fare. By the time we got home my back was on fire. I was just starting to relax into one of the back meds when I heard that siren call, “Mom, the toilet’s overflowing!”

Does everyone else have low flow toilets now also? Low flow saves a lot of water, theoretically. Unless you try to flush more than one square of toilet paper. Because that requires many flushes, and often an overflow. I don’t know what the heck happened, but this was more stopped up than I’ve seen in years. And I couldn’t lift the damned pail to force water down. The good news, Nerd Child got a complete plumbing in NYC lesson. The bad news, the many hours it took to clear the clog.

The whole thing earned me a day at the beach, no? Maybe.

Nice view of the new World Trade Center on our way to the Holland Tunnel.

Oh, I went. With Husband and Art Child, so we went to one of the NJ beaches, supposed to be cleaner and nicer.

In the parking lot, some lovely plantings around.

It was going to be a perfect beach day.

It just didn’t quite work out the way I hoped.

When we got our stuff spread out and settled, a cloud settled on top of us and the wind increased.

Then we realized the family next to us was the Loud Family. The cloud will pass, right? Those kids will go back in the water, right?

So I took a little walk with my camera.

The cloud passed and those kids did go off somewhere. Then we realized it was the mother–who did not wander off again–who was making the most noise. Then another cloud came.

But okay, the family left, yay! Everywhere else the sky looked blue. Surely this massive gray cloud above us was going to move off any moment.

It started to move off, then it came back. And the Louder and Larger Family settled right next to us, complete with screaming children and mother spraying sunscreen in futility against the wind. Thanks, my sandwich was missing something.

Story of my fucking life.

What to Do?

When you’re frustrated as hell with life and what is or isn’t happening? Today was going to be the day I ran away to the beach by myself, but due to more life and clouds, that won’t be happening. So. Shut the hell up and wander around the city with a camera.

We’ve had some really great, southern feeling storms recently. The kind that come through quickly, pour while the sun is shining or make afternoon feel like night.

: And look, here’s the spider!

Over to the east side yesterday, along 5th Avenue and wandering the eastern edges of Central Park.

For the record, this isn’t the type of dog walking I do. I walk one dog at a time.

The birds and the bees. Which reminds me–city pro tip: If you’re going to watch porn in a dark room at night, close your blinds. Oh, apartment life. It was really hot and humid in the afternoon, caught my attention to see the flowers in all the stages of blooming and dying on the same day.

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And then, at the end of the day, I sat on this bench, just outside the park. It’s a thing here in NY, you can “buy” a bench, and get a plaque attached with your name or the name of a loved one. I’m always intrigued, sometimes there’s a hint of a story, and you know this was someone who spent a lot of time enjoying park benches, other times I’m free to imagine whatever I’d like for the name attached. Many are “in memory of.” It’s unbelievably expensive, I looked into it about a year ago for a friend. In any case, on this one bench were two plaques, on the same slat. I wondered what the people who paid a gazillion dollars each to buy a bench thought of this. More than that, I wondered about who Mopsy is/was.

Hear That?

It’s my sigh of almost relief. Not quite, but getting closer. We’ve had a few beautiful days in the neighborhood, so a photo post today.

Even the pigeons shut up to enjoy a perfect moment in the sun.

The light was unbelievable here.

Yesterday, Art Child and I ran away for a couple of hours. We got on the train and headed to Brooklyn. Come ride with us, and enjoy the sights as seen by the group of young women sitting across from us, excited by their intention to walk the boardwalk–each one carrying a purse that I’m fairly certain cost more than my entire wardrobe, and each one wearing more makeup than I own–or can identify.

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Oh, dirty sand and ocean, aggressive seagulls and competing radios, how I’ve missed you…beach!

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After way too short an afternoon, on the way home again.

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Backwards Skate

Hellooo Fringelings!

It’s been a little bit since I last posted. You know what they say, if you don’t have anything nice to say, then shut the fuck up. Really it’s just been hectic. Nerd Child is home for the summer, which is wonderful, and Mother in Law is in the hospital, not wonderful. On the bright side, she’s recuperating, getting stronger each day. Art Child is not finished with school yet, the NYC public schools are in session until the end of June every year. Just making sure that even with a late start to summer weather, the kids and teachers have plenty of sweltering days in the classrooms.

This has, of course, all involved a lot of back and forth and running around. Yesterday, Mother in Law told me I need roller skates. I agree, and would like the ones I had in middle school/high school, with the emerald green wheels and matching green sparkle laces and furry green pom poms. Yes indeed, I was stylin’ those Friday Nights at the Roller Palace. For some reason, my clearest memories involve the inevitable point in the night when someone’s wheel would bust off, and there would suddenly be a thousand little ball bearings rolling across the floor.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MuFLTFCp7ps

Alas, my wheels are long misplaced, and I suspect if I tried, I’d be skating backwards when I tried to go forward.

Yesterday Man Child called me to touch base, and maybe, just maybe, give me a little nudge along the lines of, “Hey Ma, wtf?! You haven’t blogged.” So I brought my camera earlier today, to catch a few pics of St John The Divine, and the ~~assault~~ construction taking place on its grounds right now. In my opinion, this cathedral (Episcopal) is one of the most beautiful, if not the most beautiful, in the city. Interesting, too. Construction began in 1892, and has yet to be completed. The campus involves something like 11 acres, and they offer a lot of free or inexpensive programs and classes for the public. They also house one of the fancy private schools of NY. Somehow, they’ve found themselves running with a deficit. There was a huge fire over ten years ago, and if I had to guess, I’d say they’re still trying to make up for the cost of restoration and clean up. Several years ago they leased a corner of the property, and allowed an apartment building to be put up. Now comes another one, this one much closer to the church itself. As I walked around with my camera, able to see in through the back along Morningside Ave, it broke my heart a little. They don’t have official landmark status, and I’m not familiar with the politics of this type of thing to know why, but somehow, seeing the excavation for the foundation up against the gorgeous granite and carvings, it feels wrong.

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Breathe

It took me a long time to write yesterday’s post, mostly because it was upsetting. In the middle of writing it, I realized what a beautiful day it was outside so I took a break, and Art Child and I went for a walk. West instead of the usual East, to Riverside Park. The city is amazingly empty on summer holiday weekends–assuming you stay away from the tourist areas. Memorial Day weekend is Fleet Week, in addition to the naval ships and sailors, many people come by boat to hang out. I rarely make it as far south as the naval and coast guard ships, but it’s a good opportunity to enjoy the river.

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Riverside park runs along the Hudson River, from 72nd Street to 158th Street. The park is split by the Westside Highway. Then there are tunnels that pass under the highway for pedestrians/bikers/runners to reach the path that runs directly alongside the river. To me, because of the highway and sewage treatment plant on the northern end, it isn’t quite as peaceful as Central Park, but the river makes up for it, and it is beautiful.

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Next to the boat basin is a cafe. There are outside tables right over the river, and then a cavernous space that is covered but open, if that makes any sense. It was packed in there yesterday, so I didn’t shoot any pics inside.

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Fringeland is meant to be a space for honesty, but not unrelenting angst and anger. I needed this walk, this post–how about you?

Yesterday

Ready for a walk?

My plan was to write. But it was beautiful outside, a perfect spring day. So instead of working on the short story, I took a walk through the park and thought about writing, instead. Sometimes this makes everything click into place, gives me a title and clear direction. Not this time, but it was still beautiful.

I walked south, and ended up by the turtle pond.

Perfect day

Cherry blossoms? Crabapple?

These didn’t even look real to me.

Turtle pond

Whose idea was it to come to the family picnic?

Anyone else notice anything strange about cousin Ernie, so flashy.

I’ll just sunbathe, thanks.

Wouldn’t seem he was in the middle of Manhattan.

I said, go away.

Why are those children squealing?

Howz about a little kiss?

Castle overlooking turtle pond

So vivid agains the lamp post

Watch out for falling pine cones.

Don’t know what these are but they are lovely.

The trees of the park are the perfect mix of blossoming, half blossoms/half leaves, and just budding

When headed out of the park, I realized it was cat day. Who knew? I’m kidding, as far as I know there’s no such thing, but I did see a few people walking cats.

This owner was trying to walk, but the cat was not interested in doing anything other than rolling on the ground, enjoying a dust bath. Sadly, she wasn’t much more interested in posing for a picture, but wow, what a beautiful animal.

Some special breed, I didn’t catch what.

I think the word leopard is in there.

And then at the exit, I saw this. He was eyeing a lively collection of pigeons and morning doves, then turned his attention to one of the old gated tunnels. I think equipment is stored in there, along with many plump rats. At first I thought oh, poor kitty is lost, he’s going to get eaten by a raccoon if he doesn’t find his way home soon. Then I wondered if he was, in fact, a strangely colored raccoon.

And this concludes today’s pictorial on the floral and fauna of Central Park. Have a good Sunday, Fringelings!

Walking Through Fringeland, Part II

Ready to walk the plank?

Poor Cinderella, has to find another way around.

Edge of reservoir

New maintenance truck driver?

Someone left a stash.

And someone else found it.

I wonder if a fairy is under there.

Hello there.

Why yes, there are actual ball fields in Central Park.

Crocuses peaking out.

I love this little bridge.

The northern end of the park gets steeper, more hills and stairs to navigate.

I’ll take a park facing 3 BR with a study, please.

Peace ahead.

Above were just a few of the hidden paths, nooks and crannies. Central Park is 843 acres, there’re a lot of them. The set below are from just outside the park, on my way home.

There are 20 “gates” into the park, named in the 1860s, but most didn’t have the names carved into the stone until this century.

Watch out, the tree roots under the sidewalks don’t make for a smooth stroll.

I’m hoping this repair isn’t finished, where are the cobblestones?

I don’t know what causes this type of bulge in a tree trunk, but it looks amazing.

Closeup of bulge.

Looks like it belongs in a magical forest, no?

Some of the buildings along the park look like churches, some actually are.

A little color.

I’d like to stand up there.

Aaah, almost home.

Snotting Against the Wind

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e2efTlU36Tw

It isn’t raining or gray and I’ve been so damned sedentary since I hurt my back that I needed to go for a walk this morning. Dropped Flower Child off at her art class, and headed into Central Park with my camera. A nice day for a walk–you’ll all be relieved to know I wore my sensible shoes, with support, without heels. Glad I had a hat and was wearing layers because it is windy out there. Just shy of cold when the sun goes behind a cloud. As expected, it was crowded with bikers, runners, kids, dogs, bird watchers and photographers. But one of the nice things about Central Park is how big it is, if you don’t go to the popular, touristy spots, you can still find some peace.

Except for the two runners who were stopped right where I wanted to take some photos of the newly seeded ball fields. One even treated me to the sight and sound of her blowing her nose onto the ground. You know, one finger laid across one nostril, lean forward and blow out the other one. I’m sure someone will tell me how it’s necessary, you don’t carry tissues to go running. You know what? It’s fucking gross. I’ll bet she had her cell phone tucked in somewhere, she could throw a few Kleenex into the case. By the way hon, if you’re reading, you might want to get checked for a sinus infection.

I would love to photograph the playgrounds, but they’re rarely empty, and it’s creepy to stand there and take photos of other people’s kids. I like to get shots of birds, but that rarely works out for me, I don’t have great photography skills. If you’re a longtime follower, you might know I’m obsessed with trees, especially the patterns of the root growths, and this time of year, just beginning to bud, when you can see the shapes and shadows made by the branches. Plus, I find trees to be cooperative subjects, they rarely blink or move at the moment I press the shutter. I also shoot a lot of the various bodies of water. They’re always moving, but that makes them interesting to me, even the blurs. I took a lot of pictures, I’ll probably break this up into two or three posts.

This guy stood long enough for me to take 4 shots.

One day I’d like to trace whose roots are whose.

Winter casualty

So serene, nature in the city

under a bridge

Whoops

Flowers are starting to poke up

These little white ones are so delicate.

Over the reservoir, you can see their feathers being blown by the wind.

Looking east across the reservoir.

Heads up, falling seed pods.

Back corner of the tennis courts, this tree wants a ball.

I love this. Because I’m weird, ok?!

If this trunk could talk…

I liked this effect, the one tree in soft green buds, the rest still gray/brown with the top of the light post showing.

One of many little ponds, on the west side.

When I was pregnant with Man Child, I used to dream he was born and jumped into the lake at Central Park, but I couldn’t help him because I was being given a ticket for letting him go swimming.

Looking northwest.

Quack.

Not so secret passage.

I was happy I was able to get shots of this little waterfall, despite the three kiddos climbing on the rocks.

Imagining homeless coming here to cool off on hot August nights.

Look, I can zoom!

No ducks taking this ride.

Love the algae covered rocks.

How cool are these? I *think* they’re buckled up tree roots, maybe they push up because of the water?

This is the tree I think they’re attached to.

Like tree joints. How many elbows and knees does one tree have, anyway?

All sharp angles on these branches.

Sometimes You Just Have to Say

Serious in an entirely different way.

Fuck it. And put on your favorite winter boots.

And go out, after searching the internet for the most steeply discounted tickets you can find. When I was a kid, we used to to go to the theater on a semi-regular basis. Not like we went every month, but once or twice a year. Tickets were less costly then, with discounts you could even get good seats. Hell, if I really liked the show, I would go more than once. Maybe because of the show itself, maybe because I loved a particular lead, or maybe because someone else was playing the lead and I wanted to see them. Now? Hah! The thought of spending money to see something already seen is obscene.

Les Mis is coming back to Broadway. Flower Child’s absolute favorite. I’d love to get tickets and take her, but those tickets are way out of reach, and will be for years. I hoped for Wicked, but no discounts there either. Mrs Fringe needs a steep discount. 20% isn’t going to cut it. Anything Disney is out of the question. I know, many are well done, beautiful–but it’s so rare for us to go, just no.

Found three tickets that might or might not have caused some vertigo and a nosebleed and broke out the Metrocard.

Neon and tourists

Running since 1988, and this was the first time I’ve seen it.

Yes, it needs to be said. Pizza is sold by the slice in most places in NYC

One way to tell NYers from tourists is their pace. NYers walk quickly. Husband rarely walks more than up the block to see his mother, but when he walks he’s fast. This was my only night out in I don’t know how long, I think it’s been 3?4? years since I’ve seen a show. I took my time. Sure, he was a block ahead of me–but I had the print out to pick up the tickets. Another way to tell tourists from natives is the camera hanging from their necks. Well, see, I’ve got this blog….So perhaps I looked like a tourist last night. I don’t mind.

I love live theater, and wish I could go every month. There truly is something magical, I think it’s in the theater houses themselves, in the plaster and gold paint, the chandeliers and hundred year old exit signs.

I was thinking opera glasses would have been a perfect accessory. Do they still make/sell those?

Yes, these not so little touches are everything.

Beautiful, isn’t it?

I would like this over my front door.

The show, of course, was lovely. Flower Child gripped her armrests throughout (we were pretty high up for sure) but loved the music, the costumes, the singing, the trip to the lobby during intermission and the peek at the orchestra seats, lol.

A few photos of Times Square as we walked back to the subway–and perhaps an explanation for why Mrs Fringe can’t tell a star from a photo flare from a smudge on the camera screen. It’s bright in the city–even at 9:30pm on a mid-winter night.