Weather Report

I’m back in New York, where the weather really seems to have taken Memorial Day to heart. Suddenly, as of Monday, it is summer–I mean, it really feels like summer–and I am elated. I sort of die inside during the winter, when my wont to wander and drink outside is stifled by the cold… Winter antagonizes street life and, frankly, I live to see things like golden retrievers shaved like lions (Prospect Park) and grown men constructing diaromas (Washington Square Park). There’s a Balzac quote that I love which says that the counter of a café is the parliment of the people. In which case, I would say that the sidewalks are the theatres.

I should add that spring in Park Slope was beautiful: the neighborhood’s flowering cherry blossoms made me think of pink frosted cupcakes… (Oddly, I only like frosting visually.) April and May were delicious months for me. There’s so much to love about this neighborhood…

I just got in from an abrupt rainstorm. Walking only half a block from the 7th Avenue Duane Reade to my apartment was enough to get me drenched. It was a refreshing (if unanticipated) shower, actually, and I learned something: a dress is the ideal garment for getting caught in the rain. (I never hate pants so much as when it’s raining…pants become bifurcated tyrants. A pox on them!!) One would think that I would have had this meteoro-sartorial epiphany during rainy season in Guadeloupe mais non–I’m just realizing it now.