This morning I had a fond weather induced memory. It seemed so cool for an August morning in this city. After a long and wonderful nature walk in Van Cortlandt Park yesterday I woke up feeling very good and enjoyed that coolness very much. My first thought when I woke up with the windows open and felt the fresh wet breeze was waking up in a Tottenham Court Road hotel to room service coffee and a continental breakfast. This felt almost like a summer morning in London instead of New York City.
Yesterday was a blue sky day and I went to the swamps of Van Cortlandt during the golden hours of the morning, spent the entire day walking in the forest. It was probably because my spirits were so lifted by that late summer walk that I noticed the odd quality on the New York City light this morning. That sort of light that cast no shadows and feels damp, the coolness and moisture in the air was a reminder of the many times, many years ago, when I would fly over for that last Bank Holiday of summer and enjoy both the music and the crowds of the Notting Hill Carnival.
I went to the forest yesterday because I was hoping that after the record setting rainfall the swamps in the valleys of Van Cortlandt would be converted to ponds. I ended up waking so much for so many hours that I woke with very sore feet. Heals so sore that I needed to tiptoe to the coffee pot in the kitchen but remembering walking through dark forest where centuries of fallen acorns made the ground fell like pillows made it all seem worthwhile.
I walked up through the many winding hills and finally got that perfect shot of Jewelweed I've been looking for. I walked in the dark forest valleys and enjoyed the red of the Cardinal flowers. I walked in the wetland marshes surrounded by yellow Cupflowers and the white Hibiscus known as Swamp Mallow. I walked in the meadows and saw that August purple thistle like flower that I still have not identified but proclaims to me "September is Near!" For the first time I saw forest Asters that will stay on through October. I listening as the forest silence was broken by tall ancient Tulip Trees casting off their offspring. I enjoyed the sight of the Maple trees covered in winged seeds that I could vaguely remember once splitting and gluing to my nose. I did a lot of walking.
After the extreme heat of July all of these cool August mornings seem so odd, an unsuspected pleasure after an especially good day. Because my air conditioners are usually on all night during the hazy, hot and humid month the eastern windows of my apartment are rarely opened and the sunrise view is usually forgotten. As I drink my morning coffee on my terrace looking west at the Hudson River and a view of the Palisades there is just the hum of many air conditioners and the bell of one river buoy to keep me company.
This morning, instead of the feelings I get as I look to the west, the sounds of the city coming from the eastern windows facing Riverdale Avenue drew me away from the view of the hillside and the river with an undeveloped Palisades for a background. I put on some clothes and took my coffee out to the eastern terrace that I share with other neighbors. For a change I traded in the slow silent barge traffic for the noisy cars, buses and trucks in a big hurry to get somewhere. I watched the people hustling to begin their workdays and listened to those rumbling buses competing with the church bells of St Margaret of Cortona.
About twenty floors below me the foreground is a school rooftop running track. Two years ago it was a a quiet Bronx forest and in a few days that track will be filled with energetic young students. Across the avenue is a Sunoco station where I could already hear the sound of pneumatic drills removing tires and imagined the conversations as my favorite mechanic gives estimates to commuters who would be late for work today. Next door the man who sells me my groceries is outside chatting with the man who delivers Pepsi to most of Riverdale. I've had so many conversations with both of them that I think I can fill in the blanks. As I imagined their start of day conversations I could actually hear mothers calling out to children far below.
Beyond Riverdale Avenue as the sun rose into the clouds and the sky got even closer to colors I associate with London mornings, colors I'd almost forgotten, I enjoyed the view of the many nice little houses of North Riverdale. As lights that were turned on to get ready for work were turned off again for the day, I noticed another man on a terrace. I thought I saw a coffee mug but the second floor terrace of a two family house was about four blocks away. I could only guess at his age or what he was doing but I wrote a life story for him anyway.
Beyond the neighborhood view the vista was a reminder of yesterday's walk, the green hills of Van Cortlandt Park where the gray fog in the valleys offset the hills. Beyond that the distant Long Island Sound where my easternmost Bronx neighbors, the Clam Diggers & Mussel Suckers of City Island were starting out their August day. Finally before the Atlantic Ocean that I can't really see, I could see the cliffs of the North Shore and enjoyed the memories of watching the acrobatics of the thousands of Cliff Swallows at Caumsett State Park.
As I stood there, enjoying my cup of Indonesian-Sumatra and remembered the time in my life when a quick puddle jump for the purpose of Reggae music trucks on a crowded street standing ankle deep in discarded Red Stripes and jerked pork wrappers was affordable, it was not regret that I felt but reflection. As I stood there watching the world pass me by the Bronx rains came. Then the downpour once again drowned out the sounds of humanity.