Last night, on our walk home from Dumbo where we visited Eric and Mimi's studio for the First Friday series hosted by the Architectural League (lots of people, lots of drawings and images and models, lots of architects, lots of good Vinho Verde!), we swung by the little park between the bridges, packed with a post sunset crowd, sitting on the stone steps pointing at the water. I wanted to see the berries of course, and they have not reached their peak, yet. I also had an appointment with some catnip: Tonight we will attend a meeting of the secretive Cat Appreciation Society. We will drink Meowjitos. I am serious. I am terrified.
The berries were sweet, the catnip pungent.
We continued south, to Pier One, the first part of the Brooklyn Bridge Park to open, which we have been visiting since its inception, often the only people there. But it, too, was packed. Word is out. The new plantings have grown very fast and it is astonishing to see how lush it all is, after its first growing year.
Beside the bog area are tall white flowers in profusion, waving in the river breeze. I shall return in daylight. I think they are penstemon. And the amelanchiers are dripping with fruit.
Walked some more, reaching the newly opened Pier 6, which is right in our hood, at the bottom of Atlantic Avenue. The children's park has been open since last year, but this volleyball area, floodlit at night, is new. The lawns had just been irrigated, there were only four people playing, and the sliver of moon hanging above it all, with Manhattan silent in the background made it feel surreal. In the shrubbery I could hear a cricket singing.
It looks as though a Governor's Island Ferry will land here. And the trees I saw in bloom in the night a few weeks ago (why are we always here at night? Oh, picnics. Late walk home...) have not set fruit yet. I have no idea what they are. More reconnaissance needed.
These parks - even though it is one park, in stages - are very impressive. I feel lucky to have seen the transformation take place under my nose. From solid warehouses driving a concrete wedge between life and the water, to an open invitation to stroll right down to it, and lean on the railing and see the river go by.