dinner in the dark again

 
the days are getting shorter . . 7:30 pm dinners are now in the dark.

by the shore

on our way to the house this weekend, greg and i stopped to pick apples where we used to go with my parents . . except it was SO expensive that we ended up only getting a few baked goods instead. it's cheaper for me to buy them from our farm markets in the city. maybe next time we go out i'll splurge . .

it was nice to see the school children there.

we were able to make stops as the cats weren't with us . . so we decided to have lunch at a place we always pass but hadn't been to in years (i remember being here ages ago with my aunt evie . . she loved ice cream). we shared a tuna melt sandwich on rye bread and then had ice cream: strawberry with hot fudge for me and a coffee shake for greg. 

he was so pleased that it was served with the metal cup it was blended in . . 

visiting the beach before dinner . . 

we walked across the street to a gallery opening . . on the right is a painting by edward joseph titled turtle blues, which i really liked.

the corner of a beautiful piece by christa maiwald who creates amazing work with embroidery (you can read about her here).

afterwards, we stopped by the bay to see the sunset . . 

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at the beach on saturday . . it was very windy.

greg is hidden here among the rocks. can you see him?

part of the reason for this visit was preparing the house for winter, which isn't difficult. basically, we shut down the outdoor shower and covered the ac unit and made sure the heat was set properly. then we had dinner at hooked again.

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sunday morning pancake breakfast at the firehouse . . 

getting a ride on the aerial ladder.

on the way home we visited sag harbor and met a horde of fish crows. their call is different from the crows i normally hear. (you can see about six of them in the top left corner of the tree.)

i love visiting the variety store . . and picked out a few items for christmas stockings.

they still have these fun rides . . when the children were little they would ride the horses in our brooklyn neighborhood . . a quarter for one ride!

getting a sandwich for the car ride home at the health food store.

the baby sweater

 
morgan finished knitting the hat for her austrian family's new grand baby, and i believe the package has been mailed off. it came out nice and i think it looks great.

she sewed the buttons on the sweater too . . (remember, i hadn't done that part). the buttons are so cute.

and she was glad i sent her this little made with love label. i can't remember where it's from! maybe it came with the buttons . . 

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adam had been out at the house with my sister and brother-in-law and sent this little video of the beach . . such a beautiful blue. (and all our family and friends survived hurricane milton safely.)

thursday night . .

 
cute socks . . chanda's socks.

greg and i just got back from eating at b and h dairy on second avenue. we had walked to korrina's work place to drop off some mail she needed. it felt cold returning home! fall is definitely here. it always manages to surprise me . . i haven't felt this cold since may!

tuesday night on the high line

 

the astronomy club was out on the high line this evening. kendall, janine and i were walking back from celebrating kendall's birthday at hav and mar restaurant on 11th avenue when we saw them. "have you seen saturn," one of them called out. 

they're always so welcoming and friendly, and it's always exciting to see the rings of saturn.

october 7

 sobbing without sound

i wish i could wake up and find the electricity on all day long,

i wish i could hear the birds sing again, no shooting and no buzzing drones.

i wish my desk would call me to hold my pen and write again,

or at least plow through a novel, revisit a poem, or read a play.

all around me are nothing

but silent walls

and people sobbing

without sound.

from things you may find hidden in my ear, page 25, by mosab abu toha (born 1992)

last day at the rubin museum

the rubin museum held it's closing flag ceremony this evening. (beforehand i attended a yoga class on 23rd street that i've been meaning to get to for awhile now. it was nice to finally get there.)

morning poem

 can we take a rest?

maybe die for a few

months or years

and wake up when the poem

is complete,

when the flowers in our

garden start to grow,

their scent luring

the sparrows into visiting

our house,

our house that's now

a small forest of rubble.

by mosab abu toha (born 1992)