With my parents in town for the weekend, it seemed like a good time to go sailing in the New York Harbor. We boarded from Pier 62 (right behind the north side of Chelsea Piers) and motored out. The Manhattan skyline was impressive -- especially compared to what was across the river in New Jersey (not pictured) -- but there was something kind of sad about One World Trade Center. It's obviously gigantic and powerful, but comes across as a bit arrogant, not someone you want to hang out with for more than a few minutes, or maybe just a wave across the room at a cocktail party. Or maybe someone you don't know but who you ask your friend about. "Who is that guy and why is he talking so loud?" The Statue of Liberty does a lot more with a lot less, I guess you could say. We felt relieved not to have taken the Packed Subway Cruise of the harbor. When you sail in the ocean, dolphins often swim in the wake of the schooner. When you sail in the harbor, douchey guys on jet skis ask you to throw them a can of beer. Still, it was hard to complain about anything, especially when "Captain Kat" (<3) turned off the engine and we sailed around the tip of the island. Flapping sails, slight keel as the afternoon breeze kicked up: what more could you want? Everyone loved being on the water. Even though the trip lasted just a few hours, it seemed like the city and its many hassles was very far away. From this perspective you could bask in its power and beauty.
It had been a long week, too. In the same way I missed the Twin Towers, I missed the Twin Kittens, who on their last night had climbed to the very top of the tallest stack of towels in the western hemisphere in order to give me one last dose of cuteness before they left on Monday. All weekend I was worried that I wouldn't get a final pic of these two, but they delivered. I still miss them a lot but am glad they're all gone. Meanwhile, Clio is adjusting to life with the other three cats and they are adjusting to her. (We'll cover this process in greater detail in future posts.) Back on shore, we quickly lost our water-induced earnest optimism and enjoyed a kind of hilarious (?) addition to a bus stop advertisement. We braved the High Line, which was horrifically crowded but beautifully planted. It's not hard to imagine why every neighborhood wants one of these. This morning we went to Fort Tryon Park, which was not crowded at all and even more beautiful, not that it's a competition or anything. There's nothing particularly "ruined" about Fort Tryon Park, but I think if I were a butterfly or a bee, I would prefer to live here instead of on the High Line. My father fell in love with these white hydrangeas. Herds of cone flowers galloped across the plains.
Having left its borders for a few hours, we could now see that the city was filled with magical plants.