When the rain ended, we decided to go for a walk. On the sidewalk, I stopped to say hello to my favorite puddle. Across Saint Nicholas, Sylvan Terrace was glowing in the late-afternoon sun. We stopped to admire a cat in the window of one of the row houses. The moon was already out over the mansion where George Washington had famously stayed during the Revolutionary War. I wondered if he had conscripted any of the stray cats who live on the grounds into his army. As usual, there were more cats than people to be found, which is not a complaint. There's actually a group that takes care of the cats at the mansion; most have been Trapped, Neutered, and Released, which keeps the population from exploding. According to the woman in charge of the program, it also keeps the rats away, even though the city -- ignoring ten thousand years of anecdotal evidence -- claims that the cats have nothing to do with the improved rat situation. A few of the cats are very friendly, such as this orange guy. You can tell that they've been spayed or neutered because the tip of their ear has been clipped. Not far away, a copy editor had addressed a nagging tense problem with some graffiti. I was pretty happy to live in a neighborhood where Reagan was still considered worse than crack. #neverforget There are some very beautiful apartment buildings nearby. And some obsessive gardeners. It was hard to disagree with those who had been complaining about the design of a new (seriously) children's museum and affordable housing complex at 155th Street. The critic in the New York Times said the design, by a famous architect whose name escapes me, reminded him of a straight-A student who forgot to bring his pencil to the exam. The sycamore across the street was not bothered, however. Back in our garden, a discussion ensued. "I like to consider all sides of a debate." -- Zephyr. "That building was designed by a flying snake." -- Elektra "I'm nervous about so many things." -- Dante The little stray cat watched but did not participate in the debate. (Note that her ear is also clipped, which means she has been TNR'd.) I cut back the climbing hydrangea pretty severely, with the hope that the vines will come back strong next year. This season was one of "recovery" after we (fingers crossed) managed to eradicate the scale. Fall was here, but we had a final clematis blossom. And a cluster of orange berries from the firethorn. And the perfect autumn light. And a nice pot to relax in. Outside, the sun began to set on Washington Heights. As the rest of the city prepared for another week on the job.