Sunday: tall buildings, long city blocks, crowds of people, constant sirens, world famous stores, Broadway, incredible museums, street vendors and food trucks, subways stations with filth-littered steps and sounds of oncoming trains ricocheting off walls and down tunnels. A rat scurrying along the tracks zipping into a hidden hole just in time.
Yesterday at Goose Lake: quiet street, three crows on neighbors’ driveway and two more in the street, pecking away at walnuts crushed by car tires. (Pretty clever to figure out how to break away that tough outer casing as well as the inner shell.) First of autumn flocks of starlings wheeling around above the trees before deciding by group mentality which direction to take. Caterpillars fallen from tent worm webs crawling up my newly painted white garage doors, seeking safe places to spin their gauzy cocoons.
New York. Goose Lake. New York. Goose Lake. Truth is I choose to live by Goose Lake but I need the sizzling hot sauce of New York now and again.