For a variety of reasons, I’m in NYC a lot more than usual, and this past weekend, for example, while many city residents lounged by the sea or in the mountains, I was there for an 18-hour visit.
Sweltering is about right. The subway cars were ice cold as was every indoor space I was in, but waiting for trains meant that all of us were drenched in sweat by the time boarding took place. Walking on the streets was a little better as the motion of walking created a little breeze.
I was near the East River so it was kind of, sort of cooler, too. But not much.
Hit my favorite Italian place, on Great Jones, scored a corner table, preceded that with drinks at Lafayette. Lunch at Second Ave. Favorite places, lots of comfort.
Meanwhile, on the home front, thanks to the great Armenian store around the corner, we’re talking fresh dates and figs, fresh basil, and housemade tahini sauce. From Vermont it was, via a farmers market, corn and tomatoes.
The days and nights this summer have been wonderfully slow, I’m reading two to three books a week, and making progress on a couple of book proposals.
Summer becomes a kind of winter in these ways–incubation.