Meditations in an Emergency

How gorgeous was this weekend, New York? It's ideal weather for stoop sitting, which is exactly how I ended my Sunday-- on a stoop with Sarah and Christine. That's us up there, on my stoop, which I will call home for only a few more weeks. But then I'll have a fire escape facing a weeping willow, and that's not bad either.

I love this time of year (I love every time of year, don't I? I think I said the same thing about February AND about October, but I mean it, each and every time!) when the weather draws us city folk out-of-doors for things as humble as a stoop. Frank O'Hara said it best in his Meditations in an Emergency:

"I have never clogged myself with the praises of pastoral life, nor with nostalgia for an innocent past of perverted acts in pastures. No. One need never leave the confines of New York to get all the greenery one wishes—I can’t even enjoy a blade of grass unless I know there’s a subway handy, or a record store or some other sign that people do not totally regret life. It is more important to affirm the least sincere; the clouds get enough attention as it is and even they continue to pass. Do they know what they’re missing?"

Happy Easter, my lovelies. And thanks, Mitchell, for the photo.