billowing solitude

We are covered in snow. Here's some pictures. (no need to log in, just click "view pictures" and then (maybe) "slideshow")

It started Monday morning, as Hap and I bussed it crosstown to find this pizza place in Spanish Harlem. That didn’t happen, owing at least to the fact that I was unsure of the name and location of said pizza place. (update: Patsy's on 1st Ave, at either 116th or 119th) That information can belpful…

By evening, Hap and I, and the intrepid fashionistas Lori and Lucy, plus JT were eating in a funny little Italian place in the west Village, so it didn’t matter anyway, right? The place was staffed with total Italian guys, one of whom shared with us that “da former Attorney General eats here! He lives on 5th Avenue!” I think that was meant to impress.

Afterwards, we split off and we come to highlight number two of the trip:

JT and Mick’s nighttime trek through Central Park. The Gates technically ended on Sunday, but they were hardly disassembled by Monday night and this foot of snow that has landed. So conditions were perfect for a walk in the park after dark (thanks, Charles Ives). And longtime adventure pal JT was the perfect candidate for this controversial outing. (you’ve heard it—stay out of Central Park after dark!) And I'm not even saying that's bad advice. Nonetheless, we didn’t. I’m so glad we didn’t. Talk about a wonderland; the snow muted everything to quietude, with The Gates, no longer attended to, towering overhead, sentinels to a peaceful vacancy. Occasionally we would see other nighttime revelers, but mostly we blazed this way and that, and the snow feathered down all around.

The wind was no small thing, and it was finally evident the big job of the tennis ball people, as it was easy to call the “gates-keepers,” who carried extendable poles with tennis balls glued to the ends to gently free up fabric that had flipped over the frames. Now that the exhibit was closed, fabric is starting to become increasingly flummoxed by Mother Nature.

What a wonderful sonorous night. So strange to hear the sound of such solitude in the middle of this city of millions. Most people were tucked away inside, but in Central Park, there was wonder abounding. Eventually, I put away my camera as the snow began coming down in piles. We meandered our way along around the turtle pond, and then across the back of the Met, where inside, ancient Egyptian spirits slumber in the wrong climate.

SEE MORE PICTURES HERE! (no need to log in, just click "view pictures" and then (maybe) "slideshow")