Eden on the Hudson
Yesterday, New York pulled summer heat and humidity out of seasonal storage, and transformed itself, as it does every summer, into a tropical city.
Upper Broadway sizzled.
In Riverside Park, workers plant new trees to cool the paths and hillsides.
“Looks like a big job,” I say.
“Nah,” says the man. “Only fifteen trees.”
Oh, only fifteen.
Back on Broadway, I find further proof, if proof were needed, that my city is a tropical paradise.
I may not live in the garden – they say Eden is guarded by an angel with a flaming sword – but I can shop there.
Later, a pigeon takes a break from parental duties at its nearby nest, and surveys the schoolyard,
where the blazing hot walls scream: “Save the animals” in bright blue paint.
After sunset, a hawk flies home to its nest high on Saint John the Divine to tuck its three fuzzy babies in for the night.