Walking down Broadway, we admired the "Broadway Malls" (or medians) efforts of the Parks Department, which has slowly been renovating every island in the stream of traffic, filling them with landscape roses and other perennials that live under the oak and cherry trees.
As usual, others did their best to wreck the effect.
Washington Heights, I noted as we walked up 157th Street, remains a neighborhood of great architectural promise and compromise.
Which is better, I suppose, than living in a museum. Of the one million trees that Mayor Bloomberg planted before leaving office, approximately fifty percent of them died, leaving the local streets lined with skeletons. Apparently nobody thought about the fact that street trees often die and need to be replaced; there was a frenzy of planting and, now, silence.
The ones who make it are very lovely, however.
Sylvan Terrace looked like a movie set in the afternoon light.
We walked the paths of the Morris-Jumel grounds, which thanks to the roses spilling over the walkway resembled an English cottage.
Given the decrepit conditions of the grounds even ten years ago, the improvement was astonishing. Somewhere the ghost of George Washington is smiling (or frowning) as he remembers wandering these same paths and contemplating the future in which we would be ruled not by England, but by multinational corporations and communication surveillance programs. In any case, he likes the roses.
On the other side of the railing, a spire of foxglove reached for the light.
Recently I've seen a number of LOL videos of children being "confused" by once-popular but now outdated technology such as cassette tapes and sundials, which were popular in the 1980s.
On 162nd Street, we admired the brownstones, one of which was just listed for $2.5 million if you want to live around the corner from the Morris-Jumel Mansion.
Down the block, we visited the community garden, where a few years ago we donated an apple tree and a cherry tree. They're both thriving, as Scott, the head gardener, pointed out to us, along with an heirloom rose.
The cherry tree even has cherries!
The gardeners, a group of non-whites and/or non-heterosexuals discussed plans for the Gay Pride march later this month.
The feral cat colony has a shelter in the garden.
Scott offered to give us some hostas for a shady spot around our fountain.
As we waited for him to dig up the plants, I couldn't stop admiring the roses.
So many colors, all in full bloom.
It had been a perfect afternoon in Washington Heights.