At this morning's Grand Army Plaza Greenmarket, folks lined up for a free tote bag full of daffodil bulbs, if they promised to plant them in a needy public place. 
Most asked cagily, "Can I plant them in my yard?" Duh, no! Go here to learn more about the Daffodil Project, run by "New Yorkers for Parks."
I bagged a Kabocha squash, "German Butterball" potatoes, some bluefish, and Concord grapes, which will furnish the Concord streusel pie that I make once a year. Family wasn't along today to help me haul, but I still managed to bring you a particularly fine...
GREENMARKET DOG OF THE WEEK
Do not look into the eyes. Too late! One glance and I am groveling before Kugel, a "lemon beagle" (no black coloration). Only 5 months old, Kugel grooved onto his human's lap for some curbside snoodling. Look closely at the ears. No matter how silky they look, they feel even silkier. Mommy, I want a puppy now!
SPECIAL TO AYITP: BLOGGER AT THE BALL
Tonight, I dropped by the Prospect Park Ball, a fundraiser for the Prospect Park Alliance and its good works. I've worked as a journalist for 30 years, but never as either society reporter or photojournalist, and I'm still shaky on giving my media credential as "blogger." So, hiding my imposter syndrome under a Fran Lebowitzy black jacket and pants, I sailed into the festive tent next to the Carousel on this crisp evening.
The cocktail tent was beautifully lit and full of guests perusing the Silent Auction. There were a few bare shoulders and long gowns, but mostly restrained finery. 
I didn't get this gal's name, but she was my pick for belle of the ball: Gwyneth hair, classy little black dress, and air of cool detachment.
An adjoining tent was set up for dinner under phantasmagoric bird sculptures covered in faux autumn leaves.
Guests had free rein on the Carousel. Hilda Cohen and Nathan Brauer (left) and Kim and Andy Wiley-Schwartz (right) availed themselves of a ride. I joked, as I took the shot, that I was "doing a Bill Cunningham."
Then...there was the real Bill Cunningham. The legendary New York Times society photographer hopped aboard the carousel and snapped some shots, the embodiment of a gentler bygone era right down to his non-digital camera. I stammered my admiration for his workâhe can turn a photo essay on, say, leopard-spotted coats into a richly observed and wry tapestry of storytelling. "Oh, just doing my job," he said breezily. There we were, Bill with his pro camera and me with my taped-together point-and-shoot, just doing our jobs.
After that, I went home. Sometimes you just know when things can't possibly get any better.
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