I won't bother pretending like spring isn't tickling my toes. New York is covered in tulips, magnolias, dogwoods, and a lot of trees and flowers I don't recognize (a lot of trees and flowers). I'm excited to see new blossoms, the shoots of growth pushing out of the ground. I might have mentioned before that, to me, spring distinguishes the East Coast from the West Coast.
Our friend, Leanne, was in from San Francisco for a conference. We met up at Chelsea Market, then took the elevator up to the walk the High Line. Last time we were up there, it was late summer, early fall. The grasses were growing through the old tracks. It was beautiful.
But it's spring!
Eastern Red Bud
Mister and our friend Leanne, pushing our "new" double stroller (the Phil & Ted's Dash, cumbersome! not dashable)
Buildings line the High Line, the raised train track ran between and through buildings along the Hudson River, through the Meatpacking district. Moving the trains above the street kept pedestrians safer in the busy corridor.
Many of the buildings have been or are being remodeled and refaced, glammed up. This one houses Phillips de Pury & Co., an art auction house, on the "ground" floor. I'm not sure what the business is above it, but you can see the tree cut outs through the windows. Sky, buildings, clouds reflect off the windows.
Where the wild things might be.
The sutra telephone game, courtesy the Rubin Museum (whose site is AWOL TODAY). A Tibetan monk chanted lines from the sutra, which were passed down from person to person along the High Line, to author Salman Rushdie. Rushdie tweeted the final words.
Ah, bacon. Brunch at Cookshop. (GREAT food, ridiculous service.) Lunch was interrupted, for me, by Pickle's need for some milks. But first, shattering screams. We bounced up and down Tenth Ave., finally settling on the low wall in front of the General Theological Seminary across the street.