Green-Wood Cemetery

I knew about Green-Wood Cemetery, or at least that it existed, and was big, and that Frank and Betsy had said we must visit, and that it is mentioned in birding blogs, and that in spring it is full of flowers. I was not prepared for the scale of it, nor its depth of field, nor its endless green grass and hills, nor, especially, its very beautiful trees. Old trees. Nor even that to get there all we had to do was ride the R two stops farther than usual. One becomes so used to habit and pattern that an entire world can be missed. Everyone should ride the subway two stops farther, and then get out, and see what happens.

It did not hurt, either, that I fell over some mushrooms within two minutes of entering its gates and walking up its imposing drive.

A storm was coming. After spending some time with the green parrots and the mushrooms we went farther in, through the massive archway - we had entered from the 5th Avenue (Brooklyn!) side, and up a steep hill between appropriate yew trees.

It is going to be breathtaking in the fall.

Other than us, no living souls were abroad.

Hearing the rumbling from the purple clouds gathering in force to the south, we turned around early. The storm caught us at the gate, opening the sky all at once, and we ran. Within two blocks we were back in the subway, soaking.

We need more time to explore, next time, and will head back when the leaves have started to turn. Perhaps we'll find where Leonard Bernstein is and have a picnic with him.