I walked back home from a SoHo appointment to Brooklyn, in low misty cloud.
Above, a park I had not seen before, above Canal Street in the southern remnants of SoHo. Trash, pigeons, a homeless person, blossoms and railings. A city encapsulated.
It is worth stating the obvious, that most of the blossoms and flowers popping open all over now and showing up here are not the citizens of private gardens. They are on the street, for everyone. Above and below, the Manhattan end of the Brooklyn Bridge...
I have lost my fight with forysthia. I have begun to like it. Brooklyn Promenade.
Callery pears will be even prettier when the sun comes out.
And one of the reasons for my walk rather than subway ride home: the Amelanchier blossoms in DUMBO, which have still not opened! I feel lucky to have seen them at every stage of their seasonal progress, but the suspense is killing me.
If you're tired of seeing flowers, just holler. Otherwise it may be rather an effusive month.