On my way to drop off a package at Betty's home, upstream, in Brooklyn Heights, I walked down some streets I don't visit every day. Past cars and dogs and walkers, and nannies and strollers and UPS men and Men In Black iii set handlers, and gardens.
I love foxgloves. In this garden, which has been newly planted (last fall, perhaps?), someone cuts back an old fig to the ground, every year, then wraps it in plastic. It's not necessary any more, but I wonder if it was, then. Curious. Note-under-door time. Perhaps I should have some printed.
An actual rose arbor.
Lovely geranium. The black fence makes it pop.
Tomorrow, we'll check on the Dumbo Juneberries on our way to visit Eric and Mimi's studio on one of its cobbled streets. Perhaps I could give them a sackletful of ripe fruit.