Deal with God: Next time I am gamboling (or even trudging) in Prospect Park, I will be consciously grateful that I am there, rather than doubled over in the waiting room of an ER to get antibiotics for a head-splitting ear infection. Which is where I was today...first stop, I hope, on the unequivocal road to recovery from this ever-morphing thing. It's funny how quickly, even instantly, one can enter into Really Sick Land; already, the recollection of yesterday's runners and cyclists whizzing by seems like a blurry home movie from a life in another country. I want my passport back.
Meanwhile, two Tree Encounters from an idyllic yesterday at the foot of the Long Meadow. I admire the stubbornness of some oaks that refuse to shed their leaves until the new leaves literally push the dead ones off the branch in Spring. For leaf zombies, they are very handsome, especially with the sun behind them.
I suspect the reason for this young birch being fenced in. Are the park's arborists wise enough to know that no child on earth can resist peeling bark? As a docent at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, I noted (before intervening) that any tree with decorative peeling bark was an instant souvenir stand. I was pretty tempted myself; as a kid, I'd take some home and write on it, pretending to be a Native American spy or the like.
And now, amoxicillin, do your thing.
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