Cue the Callery Pears. This is 5th Avenue, Brooklyn. Reliably more interesting than 5th Avenue, Manhattan. Oh, maybe I just say that for effect. But I can guarantee that while I may bring back impeccably coiffed tulip pictures from 5th Avenue in say, the rarified atmosphere of Upper East Side altitudes, I will also bring back pictures of dog walkers walking face-lifted dogs...
Above, 7th Avenue, Park Slope. This cab must be lost. Never did tell my cab story, did I? The one about the cabbie who made us get out of his cab on the way to JFK, after trying to overcharge us a flat fee of $45, from Brooklyn, who got off with a fine after telling the judge that I used bad language and did not speak clearly when asking him to take Atlantic Avenue? Well, which was it? Did I use bad language which he implies he understood, or did I not speak clearly ??? Or maybe asking a cab driver to take Atlantic to JFK is using bad language. This route saves you at least $6.
Naturally I could not cross examine him because by that time I had been told by the Taxi and Limousine Commission that my testimony (on the phone, live) was sufficient and that I could go now, thank you. So I never heard his side of the story. What a farce. Oh, blablabla.
Back to flowers.
Probably "Okame", at the Grand Army Plaza entrance to Prospect Park.
Magnolia soulangeana in Cobble Hill, from Smith Street. Two construction workers, drinking coffee: What's she takin' a picture of? Da fence? No...no. Da tree! Da tree!...No... da flowuhss, da flowuhss!
What is this? It's humbling to admit that am still learning big American (?) trees sans leaf cover. The flowers are everywhere, now, an electric, intense, lime green. Bee-yootiful.
The magnolia opposite us, in the always-deserted garden where the movie was being shot last week.
And flowering quince on Congress Street, the same shrub that survived the quince thief a couple of years ago.