Pier 6, Brooklyn Bridge Park
I felt a bit guilty about not posting disaster pictures, so I went for a two mile-ish walk to see what I could see. First, I swaddled myself in rainboots, a storm jacket of the Frenchman's, and his favourite baseball cap, with the hood of the jacket pulled over that, a big-lensed camera round my neck and under the jacket. So I looked pregnant.
And then I waddled out into the teeth of it.
Financial District across New York Harbor and East River
Down at Pier 6 the wind was whipping and I discovered that rain can sting. The cap blew right off my head, here, and landed in a prickly thicket of Rosa rugosa, and I went crawling after it. Couldn't go home without it.
Apart from my dry feet, my lower half was soaked by this time, but upper half toasty and dry; face wet, hair in dripping strings like a rat's, but comfortable enough to press on and ascend to the Brooklyn Heights Promenade.
Lots of leaves and few cars in the quiet streets. Not a typical Monday scene.
Vince - stuck at home working remotely - had warned me to keep looking up, saying I would not notice flying objects in my baseball cap and hood. So I kept looking up. I wasn't very happy about walking under the trees and actually crossed the road to avoid callery pears, but I did enjoy jumping in some leafy puddles.
The Promenade was deserted apart from a dozen or so adventure-seekers, locals and tourists alike.
Brookly Heights Promenade
Not a soul on the viewing benches, but pools of locust leaves.
The Statue of Liberty appeared and vanished again as squall after squall swept across the harbor.
New York Harbor and Governor's Island
A coast guard boast strained up the East River against the outgoing tide.
Work is under way on the construction and planting of the connecting parts of the Brooklyn Bridge Park.
Pier 1 was the first new part to open, below, and Pier 6 the second, way on the left (out of frame). Though low tide, the water was near its high water mark.
Pier 1, Brooklyn Bridge Park
Fallen locust branches lay splintered, up at street level.
Standing in the middle of Henry Street and pointing back towards home, I contemplated another 40 minutes of walking to view the Gowanus Canal. The wind gusts were picking up and my small camera, in a pocket, was wet.
I headed home to dry off. Delis and food stores look closed but Heights Chateau, stuffed to the gills with alcohol, was open was open.
Japanese restaurant down the road, shuttered.
Some intrepid friends out for a stormy stroll.
The zelkovas are beginning to reach their colour-peak.
And in the playground the Brooklyn pigeons asked, What storm?
The Frenchman has cabin fever and just gone on his own brief walkabout to the water, before the wind gets too bad. My pants are still drying. He'll get wet, but it's nothing a martini can't fix.
Tonight? We will really be an island, as the governor has ordered all bridges closed. Tunnels are already out of commission. I am grateful for our modest hill, our ample supplies, and our small, dry apartment.