Since Prospect Park and I have been drifting apart a bit lately, I summoned the will to leave my car keys at home, and walked across the park to the Windsor Terrace post office to mail a package. I was rewarded with...
...the Bishop Ford High School football team, getting chewed out but good by Coach on the Parade Grounds.
A very young rider being reassured before cantering off around the lake.
The Vanderbilt Playground, totally torn up for renovation. The scene of my forays with the toddler Child has been erased, although I feel little nostalgia: Child was never a great fan of playgrounds in those years, and I mostly recall a lot of forced cheer as I attempted to stuff her into swings or entice her onto the climbing gym.
And finally, unaware of the rich symbolism they evoked, a plump and vigilant hawk, poised hungrily above a rather gormless-looking dove.
I'll have to get over to the Post Office more often.