It snowed here in NYC today. And not just a bit of fluff or the occasional frozen droplet floating by. Hefty, hearty, driving flakes. Big ass flakes. Flakes to write home about, or at least all over your facebook wall. And while the forecast is somewhat more optimistic, I fear today may mark the end of that sweet, fleeting season between tank tops and Gore-Tex. Ah fall, I hardly knew ye!
Two of the (many!) highlights of the season: last minute, impromptu visits to the Met. Always at or near 3pm on a weekday, grab a friend, rush to the train, guiltily slide whatever cash you may have in pocket towards the demure looking young lady in gold rimmed glasses behind the entrance desk, and proceed to the roof. Point out the Plaza Hotel in the distance and rest your elbows on the dense shrubbery. Spend what time you have left wandering through the 2nd Floor galleries and come face to face with what may be your favorite painting of all time. Good Goya.
Also: flowers! And how. I had the extreme pleasure of working with a certain Ms. Amy Merrick on two weddings in the last few weeks. One a small Manhattan affair, and the other an over night, upstate, semi-wilderness adventure. Both involved early mornings, cold fingers, heavy lifting and long hours. As well as an immense sense of satisfaction, several different types of cats, enormous cornbread muffins, slumber parties in converted sawmills, takeout Chinese and FUN. Lotta that. I may be a fool, but I'm hungry for more.