Ferns everywhere in the Hudson Valley. Coated with light. Their ranks filling the forest floor. For what it’s worth, I wanted to stay there forever, but, of course, there were vistas to see and sandwiches to eat. Drives along the river and art. Whenever I’m in those woods, the industrialized past that defined the region seems so far removed from any present moment. The husks of old buildings filled up with air and motes of dust, their windows waiting for the next revival. And the trees that surround them themselves covered with vines that certainly beckon a new kind of destructive wildness and abandon.
Miscellanyadirondacks airports art bedford-stuyvesant birds bronx brooklyn brooklyn garage bruce springsteen busses canoing cascade mountain cemetaries Central Park cold spring cows desert dia:beacon diners DUMBO early risers fire escape Freshkills Park ghosts goodbye gowanus gowanus canal greenpoint Henry Hudson Bridge horse racing hudson valley insomnia Inwood Park JFK john ruskin library of congress lightbulb lightbulb awnings manhattan mapping moons morningside park movies about running music Newtown Creek ny daily news open owls paul otlet photographs of runners prospect park Queens Queensbridge Park quiet Robert Moses robins runners i have known running rust scotland ships Sky Meadows snow Staten Island sunrise and sunset tedium the forlorn birder the yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes thistles train-rides virginia water whitney woodpeckers wrong-headed exercise philosophies