Last evening I packed a picnic, originally destined for the Great Lawn, but then I chickened out and we decided on the new lawns of the Brooklyn Bridge Park, and we headed off, a fifteen minute walk from home.
Naturally, the lawns were closed...
But I still gloated at the No Dog signs planted in them (clean lawns for all!). I asked a friendly John Doe cleaner (one of a blue-overalled battalion - there is nary a scrap of paper to be found in the park - I wish they'd fan out into the greater Brooklyn area) what was up, and he said that the lawns had just been sprayed.
Er...? I said.
Not fertilized, he said, Sprayed.
Maybe they sprayed them green, suggested Vincent. The French are often very helpful.
So, no lush grass beneath us. We chose the newly opened, warm stone steps and joined two other picnicking couples. The two guys below us had sandwiches and chips. The German couple above had a Wholefoods bag.
Our picnic won: Saucisson, brie, prosciutto, baguette, insalata di Caprese, crunchy vegetables, dolmades, hummus, my new favorite Pop Chips, and Mulderbosh Cabernert Sauvignon Rose, 2009.
Later these two arrived, on what looked like an early date. They had pizza, probably from Patsy Grimaldi's round the corner. Her new shoes hurt her feet - she had little wads of tissue tucked near the toes.
As dusk settled, more people arrived, but it's still a quiet place.
I love this view of the river, working as it has for hundreds of years. Barges, tugs, pleasure boats, yachts, cormorants flying past the skyscrapers of the Financial District, ferries hooting, helicopters and planes above, landing and taking off. A busy peace.