![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Journaling to remember.
Last Sunday I didn't feel up to the gym for an assortment and oddity of reasons, so I figured I'd take a short walk, nothing too heavy, just get out and move a bit by making a round-trip to the coffee shop to deal with both restlessness and tiredness. Twenty feet out I turned around to take an indirect route through Riverside Park instead of heading up four blocks and going straight there.
I turn the corner to the park, and look up and see a hawk circling overhead. Not an uncommon sight - but a welcome one, in any case.
Then, I turn off from the park up onto a nearby street to make my way to the shop - and there's an open door. It's a door that I've walked past but never had the good luck or timing to do so when it's been open for me. So I did what any reasonable person would do, and followed my feet and walked through it, up the stairs into The Lotus Garden. It's something I wouldn't have ever guessed would be there: a lovely little spot of green, tucked between all the asphalt and concrete and glass of the streets and garages and apartment buildings, curving paths to give it depth and space in its tiny plot, a few flowers blooming and new leaves all around. It's got a pond with some goldfish, a peach tree that doesn't get any more local or fresh, and several bins of compost made from clippings from the garden itself.
I asked a gardener if they took compost, and she said no, it was too much trouble to organize food scraps - it's just garden clippings.
"Would you go so far as to call that synergistic?" I asked, and she had to bite her lips to keep from laughing.
She might, if you pressed her.
In the end, I got myself an iced coffee and a reminder to follow my feet. And today I walked through Central Park to the Frick and back, noticing a joyful number of turtles both ways, and after Pesach ended, returned to eating wheat with Girl Scout cookies.
I've no idea what I'll be doing tomorrow, but I think if I get out on my feet underneath the sky, I'm going to enjoy myself.
I turn the corner to the park, and look up and see a hawk circling overhead. Not an uncommon sight - but a welcome one, in any case.
Then, I turn off from the park up onto a nearby street to make my way to the shop - and there's an open door. It's a door that I've walked past but never had the good luck or timing to do so when it's been open for me. So I did what any reasonable person would do, and followed my feet and walked through it, up the stairs into The Lotus Garden. It's something I wouldn't have ever guessed would be there: a lovely little spot of green, tucked between all the asphalt and concrete and glass of the streets and garages and apartment buildings, curving paths to give it depth and space in its tiny plot, a few flowers blooming and new leaves all around. It's got a pond with some goldfish, a peach tree that doesn't get any more local or fresh, and several bins of compost made from clippings from the garden itself.
I asked a gardener if they took compost, and she said no, it was too much trouble to organize food scraps - it's just garden clippings.
"Would you go so far as to call that synergistic?" I asked, and she had to bite her lips to keep from laughing.
She might, if you pressed her.
In the end, I got myself an iced coffee and a reminder to follow my feet. And today I walked through Central Park to the Frick and back, noticing a joyful number of turtles both ways, and after Pesach ended, returned to eating wheat with Girl Scout cookies.
I've no idea what I'll be doing tomorrow, but I think if I get out on my feet underneath the sky, I'm going to enjoy myself.