Pausing the Peugeot, looking back at the lanes for people and bicycles. The bicycles whizz past. Some are professional: bike messengers and sportsriders show zero mercy for slow tourists, who lumber or skip out of their way according to their origins and circumference; other bikes are regular commuters.This afternoon I saw a girl cycling home in a pretty skirt, with basket attached to the front, fleece-lined, in which was sitting happily a Shiba inu puppy (I have eyes for them at the moment - makes me think of Monty Python: "Eyes, eyes, fresh eyes!" - sorry), eyes slitty, ears back, teeth rattling in the downhill wind.
Cadman Plaza Park on the Brooklyn side. These plane trees are shedding last year's bark, making them luminous in the late evening sun.
Shed, shed, shed. Camouflage for urban wars.
The nice new bike lane on Henry Street, so that Shiba inus can ride safely home. The green is a trial run, to see whether cars stay out of it better than they usually do. It's retro-minty.
Quiet Amity Street around the corner from home, looking west, towards the water.
My row. You can juuust see my fig tree sticking up at the top in the middle.
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