It was supposed to be a romantic view of life in the city: bicycle basket with echinacea, about to go downtown and to Brooklyn, dodging moh-lasses-like pedestrians (I've discovered that it is those who are ambulatory who are the Enemy). But it's a picture of a dirty street.
Actually, the ride with plant was fun. A small group of Japanese tourists burst into smiles as I passed. Riding a bike gives you a sense of intimacy that I have not found walking. People are much less shy to approach you. You'd think it would be the opposite, but it's a bit like having a puppy. At the far end of the BBridge, where bikes congregate before crossing the stream of traffic, impromptu war stories are exchanged regarding this most recent passage home.
My sundresses and their romance are beginning to pall. Enough with the flowers and frills (actually, I don't know when last a frill touched my body...eeeugh). I find myself looking longingly at my jeans folded up in the old Deco chest of drawers, at my tall boots, and my favourite cream cashmere turtleneck, with two moth holes. I want the cold weather back.