Sophie's weekend in New York was pretty magical, birthday party aside. She was lovely on the plane trip, despite a three hour drive to the airport and a two-legged itinerary. On Friday, we all woke up late, then lunched in Union Square on our way to Carl's favorite destination in all of Manhattan: The Strand (18 miles of books, for you non-New Yorkers). After the bookstore, we met Martha and Bryan for dinner at Penelope's in Grammercy Park, then I went to the Women's Project, baby in tow, while everybody else went to see Patrick Stewart in Macbeth on Broadway (I was a little jealous, I admit). That night, as Carl, Sophie and I slept in the same room, the bedroom window casting stripes of light and shadow across the bed, I thought how beautiful and fragile it all is: To sleep in the city with my love and my baby, while outside the taxi cabs flick their vacancy lights on and off again.
I returned to Hays to discover that my Mother, superwoman that she is, had planted a lovely flower garden in my front yard while taking care of Sophie. She adorned the front steps with charming planters filled with geraniums, which Sophie immediately tried to eat. It's hard to beat the South in the springtime, with all that luscious, burgeoning color: azaleas, daffodils, dogwoods, magnolias, tulips, you name it. Yet after a long, gray, treeless winter on the plains, the bright green fields and flowering redbud trees seem equally magnificent.
Sophie's weekend in New York was pretty magical, birthday party aside. She was lovely on the plane trip, despite a three hour drive to the airport and a two-legged itinerary. On Friday, we all woke up late, then lunched in Union Square on our way to Carl's favorite destination in all of Manhattan: The Strand (18 miles of books, for you non-New Yorkers). After the bookstore, we met Martha and Bryan for dinner at Penelope's in Grammercy Park, then I went to the Women's Project, baby in tow, while everybody else went to see Patrick Stewart in Macbeth on Broadway (I was a little jealous, I admit). That night, as Carl, Sophie and I slept in the same room, the bedroom window casting stripes of light and shadow across the bed, I thought how beautiful and fragile it all is: To sleep in the city with my love and my baby, while outside the taxi cabs flick their vacancy lights on and off again.
I returned to Hays to discover that my Mother, superwoman that she is, had planted a lovely flower garden in my front yard while taking care of Sophie. She adorned the front steps with charming planters filled with geraniums, which Sophie immediately tried to eat. It's hard to beat the South in the springtime, with all that luscious, burgeoning color: azaleas, daffodils, dogwoods, magnolias, tulips, you name it. Yet after a long, gray, treeless winter on the plains, the bright green fields and flowering redbud trees seem equally magnificent.
1 comment:
I'm glad Donno planted a lovely flower garden for you to enjoy. The pictures are great of our little city and country mouse.
Love and miss you,
Grandma
Post a Comment