The long green stems of the chives on our balcony swayed in the breeze and we went out to sit in the waning light of the day. Rosemary had noticed the chives; she is often the one who creates little spaces in our day, openings for us to attend to and appreciate the world.
I had barely taken a breath of appreciation for the declining virus numbers, when the news ramped up about the Second Wave. I looked out my bedroom window, beyond the Bossert Hotel, past Brooklyn Bridge One, to the mingled arms of red and blue cranes at the Red Hook Terminal, which docked the Queen Mary 2 in healthier days.
[Click on title to read full post] The east-facing windows of our new Brooklyn Heights apartment, on the 32nd floor look out across the expanse of Brooklyn and Queens, building after building. On the horizon, I can see the air traffic control tower at JFK airport, twelve miles away as the crow flies, more visible in some lights than in others. The horizon stretches north and south behind the tower in a long, flat line, broken here and there by a building that rises higher than the land. The expanse of Long Island lies in the distance behind.