I had meant to visit the Conservatory Garden in Central Park ever since I moved back to the city but somehow never got around to it. I suppose because it is on the east side of Manhattan, by 106th and Fifth Ave, and inconvenient to get to. It is across the street from the former Flower Fifth Ave hospital, where I worked at one time. However I discovered that the M4 bus, which reaches all the way up to the Cloisters drops you off right in front of the place.
I had picked a good time to visit because there was some sort of wedding reception and you could hear the violin all through the garden. The lilacs were in bloom and you could smell their perfume a long way off. I miss the lilacs at the old farmhouse that we used to own. My neighbor in the Catskills told me that the German farmwives who settled there always planted lilacs by their houses and if you find lilacs in the woods, you could usually find the foundations of a former farmhouse nearby.
I will be tempted to return in two weeks and attempt to pick some of the mayapples and hopefully not get arrested. Every part of the plant except the fruit, including the seeds, will give you the shits. The plant will also induce abortions.
I continued walking into East Harlem for a bit. I remember our offering a lift to a Catholic priest in front of the very pretty church. He nearly jumped out of his skin, thinking we meant to mug him. I asked him if people in Catholic East Harlem would really mug a priest? He said they sure would.
I included a picture of the former Flower Fifth Ave hospital simply because my daughter was born there.
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