Prospect: A Year in the Park

Edgy

Okay, where was I on Sunday? This guest park offers a vaguely Planet-of-the-Apes-like view of the Empire State Building and a surprisingly determined little tide at one's feet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Turn 180 degrees: It's "The Edge" of Williamsburg! We are in East River State Park, which dissolves into a beachlet that seems somewhat forbidden, if easily reached. The glaring condo loomed over a double-barrelled kickoff to hipster summer: the Brooklyn Flea and (our destination) the Renegade Craft Fair, a sprawl of tents stuffed with all things fey, twee, ironic and handmade. The surrounding greensward was scattered thickly with sunbathers, who revealed a gallery's worth of tattoos.

 

 

Being a compulsive beachcomber, however, I was even more taken with the detritus at the water's edge, as was this young man. A day at the beach in Williamsburg is family fun like anywhere else in the U.S.A., except Mom and Dad wear black...

 

 

 

 

 

 

A wee dead crab lay belly-up amid the rubbish. I thought of Hyacinth Bucket's quest for "riparian entertainment."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No one was really in the water, although this sign obviously doesn't get a lot of respect. It was too beautiful a Sunday afternoon for "downers," on or off the rocks.

Color wheels

The biggest news at yesterday's Grand Army Plaza Greenmarket: peaches are two weeks early. And they're good ones. Daughter and I devoured them on the spot with juice running off our chins.  We have eaten a sack of them in 24 hours.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was struck by a series of vibrant color matchings in the clear June sunshine, starting with yellow and dark chocolate bouquets.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blueberry and tomato must be the flag of some country where it's always summer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Green or yellow? The eternal dilemma for summer squash...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...as well as beans. (Solution: get both.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Seduced by some grilled samples at the information booth (doled out by a young lady who admitted being a vegetarian), we picked up some kielbasa from Flying Pigs Farm for Fathers' Day breakfast (and made it fly across the arch). It was wonderful, as smoky as a campfire. As long as this exists, I will never be a vegetarian, especially since the Flying Pigs are humanely raised and happy ones.

 

 

 

 

 

 

GREENMARKET DOG OF THE DAY

She can haz cookie. Her owners were in a hurry but said her name was Ducky. I'm not sure if she's a Bichon or a poodle but she loves sprinkles.

Sea of greens

The sugar snap pea avalanche has arrived! I've been snacking on them incessantly. Pulling the string out of the pod is intensely pleasurable if you are as obsessive as I am.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Quadriga, as seen from flower-pot level. I love the juxtaposition of these noble steeds in the sky atop their arch of triumph...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...gazing down at all the rural goodness and its assorted celebrants.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

GREENMARKET DOG OF THE DAY

It was a dark and stormy night.  A pit bull followed a man down the street. She was emaciated and wounded; her rescuers believe she may have been used as a "bait" dog in fighting rings. But the story of Maggie, who was rehabilitated and adopted, has a happy ending. Although she can still be a little too assertive with other dogs, said her owner, this girl is so gentle she snorgles babies.

 

 

 

   Abandoned pit bulls fill our Brooklyn animal shelters, in desperate need of homes; their new owners sing their praises as loving and loyal. Maggie agrees.