It's been a while since I took a picture from the roof. At the end of the year, fast approaching, I should post a time lapse. Winter through...winter. One forgets, so quickly, what went before.
I walked in Central Park on Thursday, even in the shut-off Ramble, where loose limbs still hang after the freak snow storm. Tree people call these branches widow makers. I found a way in and stood surrounded by the most gorgeous, drenching colours. New York's autumn is at its peak, and if you can, head out into it. You will not be disappointed.
Even I have colour on the tiny terrace, mostly thanks to the blueberry, which is every shade between crimson and flat yellow. And roses, black spot and all.
I have a new book to look at, Carrot City, and shall report on it soon, from the roof farming trenches.
As this post goes live, it will be eleven minutes past eleven, on the eleventh day of the eleventh month of the year two thousand and eleven. 11:11 on 11/11//11 - in case you missed that.
Just thought I'd mention it.
Have a strawberry.
And as the post goes live I will be faraway from my laptop, heading to the edges of the Bronx in a blue minivan with Chris Arnade, the photographer whose work I admire so much, to see how and where he works, and to learn something. He suggested I leave any jewelry at home. His New York is a whole other ballgame.
And that is why it is all so interesting.