One of the best things about having access to the roof of our building, is the view over New York Harbour.
We see Governor's Island, and the constant shipping and boating activity on the fabled waterway. We also see the huge white monolith - floodlit at night for some bizarre reason - that sucks out emissions from the tunnel that connects Lower Manhattan with Red Hook in Brooklyn. And superimposed on all this, we see my beloved super post panamax cranes, or, as I prefer to call them:
Super-Post-Panamatic-Saskwatch-Eating-Cranes. You have to say it fast. Channel Julie Andrews.
That's what I called the ones in Vancouver, when Vince still lived there, which are newer and even more impressive.
I like cranes. I like their usefulness, their strength, their angles, their iron. I like their transcendence of change.
The two cranes visible from the roof are just across the 6 lane BQE, in Red Hook, with its long standing ship-working history.
The cranes far across the harbour in New Jersey look like dinosaurs coming to drink at an ancient lake.
And my cranes look across at them.
Lady Liberty between them, not waving but drowning.
The other evening, while pursuing caterpillars on the farm, I looked west as usual at the cranes, and, suddenly, there was a building in the way...
An ugly building.
When did that arrive? And how did I not notice it happening?
It's one of those nasty, instant condominiums. And it has cut off one of the cranes. My cranes.
I walked past the building, which is on Congress Street, this week as I've discovered some tennis courts just on the other side of the BQE (where you can exercise and breathe in the fumes of 6 lanes of heavy traffic). The building is brand new, and I believe it was airlifted into place. Possibly by Jehovah's Witnesses. No other explanation.
2 September 2010
New York is under tropical storm watch and we're battening down the hatches ahead of Hurricane Earl. I hope we get some weather.
The cranes will be fine.