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Incidental encounters.
Today I learned bees will go as far as the Hudson River for a bit of pollen. There was a small plant with long clusters of yellow flowers growing out of the wall facing the Hudson River, right below where I was standing, with four bees hovering around, going back and forth between the individual flowers, gathering up nectar and distributing pollen before heading back to the hive. I hadn't expected to see flowers growing right on the Hudson itself; bees were even more of a surprise. I watched them for a bit and kept going on my way.
I'd gone down to the river for tashlikh , with the intention of going to the edge of the pier at 70th street right across from the Pier i Cafe. I thought I'd be doing that this Sunday, but today turned out to be better for it. This morning, my internet service got cut off for a couple of hours because I hadn't paid the bill; it was only a couple of hours because there's a local office of the company four blocks away and I was able to get it done fast, and got a swift lesson in adult situations and responsibilities for my troubles. So to go down to the water and cast off the year's burdens seemed particularly fitting.
Aside from the bees, the walk wasn't much to speak of. It's lovely down there, with boats and bikes and little kids and plenty of people out and enjoying the last warm air before October hits and it's definitely Autumn. I've been up and down this stretch plenty of times, though, so there wasn't a whole lot to distinguish it from other walks until I got to the end of the pier and started throwing the bread down. It was pretty windy out at the end, since it juts way out into the Hudson, enough that after a couple of throws I took off the jewelry on my right hand so I wouldn't worry, and could really feel like I was throwing the pieces. So that went well, the ritual of it. And then the seagulls came.
I didn't think of them when I picked that spot, and in retrospect perhaps I should've done so. But at the same time, I was glad to see them. They were just there for the bread, and ate it about as fast as I could throw it. I could've moved to another more secluded spot to see it all drift out to the Atlantic. Yet seeing the seagulls pick the pieces out of the water and eat them, after I'd already cast them off - there was something very uplifting in that. There was one who was especially loud, who got my attention and a few more pieces of bread for its troubles, and when I saw it eating the pieces I'd just tossed down, I said, "You're very forgiving, aren't you?" In this context, they definitely were.
It seemed - correct, I guess, to see the seagulls that way, and to be out by the water that way, and to cast out the old year that way. This is a time of year for looking around, looking back and ahead, to take stock and move on. The seagulls weren't necessary. They just helped make it a little more uplifting.
I'd gone down to the river for tashlikh , with the intention of going to the edge of the pier at 70th street right across from the Pier i Cafe. I thought I'd be doing that this Sunday, but today turned out to be better for it. This morning, my internet service got cut off for a couple of hours because I hadn't paid the bill; it was only a couple of hours because there's a local office of the company four blocks away and I was able to get it done fast, and got a swift lesson in adult situations and responsibilities for my troubles. So to go down to the water and cast off the year's burdens seemed particularly fitting.
Aside from the bees, the walk wasn't much to speak of. It's lovely down there, with boats and bikes and little kids and plenty of people out and enjoying the last warm air before October hits and it's definitely Autumn. I've been up and down this stretch plenty of times, though, so there wasn't a whole lot to distinguish it from other walks until I got to the end of the pier and started throwing the bread down. It was pretty windy out at the end, since it juts way out into the Hudson, enough that after a couple of throws I took off the jewelry on my right hand so I wouldn't worry, and could really feel like I was throwing the pieces. So that went well, the ritual of it. And then the seagulls came.
I didn't think of them when I picked that spot, and in retrospect perhaps I should've done so. But at the same time, I was glad to see them. They were just there for the bread, and ate it about as fast as I could throw it. I could've moved to another more secluded spot to see it all drift out to the Atlantic. Yet seeing the seagulls pick the pieces out of the water and eat them, after I'd already cast them off - there was something very uplifting in that. There was one who was especially loud, who got my attention and a few more pieces of bread for its troubles, and when I saw it eating the pieces I'd just tossed down, I said, "You're very forgiving, aren't you?" In this context, they definitely were.
It seemed - correct, I guess, to see the seagulls that way, and to be out by the water that way, and to cast out the old year that way. This is a time of year for looking around, looking back and ahead, to take stock and move on. The seagulls weren't necessary. They just helped make it a little more uplifting.