On Friday after work, I had some time before meeting a friend at her upper west side apartment, so I got off the subway at 103rd street and walked into
Central Park, intending to find a nice spot to have myself a private little picnic dinner. Upon entering this area of the park, I noticed immense hilliness. To my left, the path led uphill and was overgrown with vegetation, and to my right it went steeply downhill, leading to a glimmering pond below. I gambled and turned left, and began walking up a narrow curving path. The plants grew heavier and wilder with each step. They were so unruly that they scared me a little, so I was glad to see a few people sitting on the grass and a few others walking by. New Yorkers are very lucky to have access to such a park. While I was looking for a nice spot, an orange-bellied bird perching on a fence caught my eye, and I noticed that the fence was at the entrance to another passage, to the left. I walked on by at first, but then decided to turn back and check it out. I had to duck my head a little to enter, and then I stepped into a clearing with a big, shimmery, black rock and more grassy field and gardens beyond. The sun was shining from the west through the tree branches, and the rock was wide and seemed like a welcoming place to sit. I stepped up onto the rock and immediately noticed that I was not alone. A man and a dog were sitting on the grass under a shade tree farther up the hill, and to my left there was someone else, also on the grass. I stood for a moment, observing, making sure that I truly wanted to be here and that I would not be disturbing anyone. However, the rock was all mine at the moment. I carefully and quietly climbed to the top with slow deliberate steps, trying not to slip or otherwise reveal myself to those who were nearby. Success! Facing southeast, I sat and stretched my legs out in front of me and got comfortable. I breathed deeply, and exhaled the stresses of the day from the office. I let the sun light my face and the heat from the rock warm my tush. Ahh yes, a perfect spot for my Japanese dinner: three onigiri and a hot cup of miso soup.
After a while, I lay down on the sun-heated rock and, using my backpack as a pillow, I watched the blue sky, the wind blowing through the leaves, and the birds riding the air. I was moved to take the photo below with my iPhone.
 |
| What the rock sees from the Great Hill. |
I had purchased the
onigiri (squeezed rice with goodies in the middle) that morning at
Sunrise Mart in SoHo. The "goodies" inside were three of my many favorites: grilled salmon, simmered bonito, and seasoned seaweed with sesame seeds. The miso soup, however, I purchased at
Pret-a-Manger in Midtown, after finishing my work errands, just before taking the uptown subway ride. How brilliantly convenient was that? I <3 NYC.
I said 'Hey' to this squirrel and it posed for me, frozen just like that. I snapped 2 photos but this is the better one. The other one showed a butt of a woman in the background, and it wasn't very flattering or attractive, mostly distracting.
I feel like there should be a moral to this visual story, but I cannot think of one. Do you have any suggestions?
Look, there's a fly on the flower! It was a very windy moment when I took this photo, I think my digital camera did pretty well.
My husband and I were walking through a mini-nature trail along the lake. He had just started to tell me a story about his weekday when I glimpsed a bird landing on a tree trunk covered in vine. I fumbled with my camera. He said, "Are you going to listen to my story or what!?" I wasn't about to let this moment go, so I said "Yes, hold on a minute, I'll be all ears." Quickly I hit the shutter - and the bird flew away. It was such a sweet moment. And then my husband told me a story of frustration, which I shared in my weekday life.
This squirrel and I had a photo session for a good few minutes. I said to my husband "I've never seen such a sweet-looking squirrel in my life!" and he said "It thinks you're going to feed it." Great, my bubble bursted, squirrel must be used to humans... Still, it wasn't afraid of me, and we shared a curiously jolly moment. So there, husband.
These birds were hopping on grass, nibbling at their finds. Then they had a little conference and went about their ways again.
