Beltáin Walk

Work in the studio took a bit longer than expected, and I was wiped out afterwards, so I took a nap before heading out on my May Day walk. First though I had to stop by my Union Halls to deposit some checks. The Equity Building is at 46th between 6th and 7th Avenues. This is a picture I took from the next corner up, as I started up towards Central Park. Yes, Gentle Readers, for you I committed what is possibly the greatest sin a local can be guilty of; I stood in Midtown, and took pictures. Like I was a tourist. I'm surprised no one took away my Metrocard and the keys to my apartment. This photo doesn't quite do justice to the feeling of the place; the crowd looks so small and sedate, the traffic highly manageable. Not so much. Oh, and that poster in the center, of the M&M's? That's not actually a poster, it's a video screen. That image constantly moves and changes. And yes, it's huge, but not as huge as...


THIS. This is the side of the Lehman Brothers Building. They do something with finance. I have a friend who works there as an executive assistant and even she seems a little foggy on what it is they do exactly. Or maybe she just wasn't able to dumb it down enough for me. They're in the business of making money, as near as I can tell. They make truckloads of it, I'm really clear on that. All those letters? They're three stories tall, and these screens keep changing too. Here's another shot of the same wall, about ten seconds later.

Okay I didn't have to be anywhere in a hurry so I was a bit more sedate than is my wont while walking in Midtown, but with all the flashing lights, honking cars, crowds of people, it's easy for me to kick into BRISK SURLY WALKING MAN. Especially when people are STANDING IN MY WAY. I did better today. Like I said, I didn't need to be anywhere at any particular time, though I did want to get to the park before sundown.

Here's a dogwood I liked inside the park. It's over near the big lake (below) which has been undergoing some renovations and actually looks pretty good, though still under construction. I was glad to see the boats are still going to be available to rent. I thought of Cooper seeing this photo; you can't really tell, but it's an adult man and two small boys, and the boys are very happily rowing, one oar each. They're not getting anywhere, but everyone seems to be having a blast. They're not the same ages as Cooper's sons, but they still made me think of them. I bet the Coopers would enjoy rowing a boat.
Having already committed to looking like a tourist today, I decided it was all right to buy a hot pretzel from a vender. As a kid, I always thought this was one of the best things about cities, hot pretzels for sale all over the place. As an adult they rarely satisfy; somehow they are always stale and hard, albeit warm. This one was no exception, but I enjoyed it more than usual, maybe because I hadn't eaten anything since 9:30 am it was pushing 5pm.
Here is the field of violets I visit every year. For those who know the park, it lies at the northern edge of the Ramble, just south of Belvedere Castle. The Ramble is reputed to be one of those places where I could have found some male company if I had wanted to. Joe, would I find any commemorative souvenir jock-straps here, or is that just Riverside? Funnily enough, the Ramble is also one of the best places in the state for birding. Apparently the diversity of wild-life here, and in the park generally, is impressive. Right there in the middle of Manhattan.

It looks like I got here just in time; I don't think the violets have peaked yet, and though I won't be able to visit again before Monday, I think I'll get to see them at least once more before they fade for another year. My camera does something funky to the color; the blossoms are far too blue in these photos, all of them. I don't know what is up with that. I've only just started being able to get the damn camera to focus on a regular basis, I mean focus on the things I want it to focus on, what do you expect of me? I'll keep plugging away though. If I were forced to choose a favorite color, it would be this, the violet of violets, the purple you can't really see in these photos, where they almost look like bluebells. Which are also lovely, but don't quite make my heart sing the way violets do. I am always looking for clothes in this shade of purple, and it's harder to find than you might think. I like purples in all sorts of shades (just as I seem to like their namesake flowers: lilac, violet, lavender), but for some reason this one, which seems to me to be almost a perfect balance of red and blue, just isn't out there in clothing much, at least not for men. Way too faggy, perhaps.

An experiment with the zoom feature, as I was lying on the ground.

My unfocused homage to Georgia O'Keefe. But damn, that color is just WRONG.

I'm not sure why I love violets so much, but for as long as I can remember, they have been an important part of my Spring. Where I grew up, the college campus and back woods will get carpeted with them at some point in the season, and I always feel like something lush and opulent has happened in the world. Later in the season the woods will be almost as covered by white violets, which as a kid I found even more magical, almost like finding a unicorn. I still find white violets magical -even the name is funny to me, like white lilacs- but for the deep, heartsong response, I gotta go with classic violet.

No doubt I also became fond of them as a kid because they showed up right as the weather got nice again, and the prospect of Summer vacation began to torment deliciously. May was also the first month without an 'r' in it, which meant we were allowed to go barefoot. I don't remember hearing this rule from my parents, but rather from the mother of my friend Richard, but it did seem to sum up my parents' general policy. Well, Mom the farm girl was the one who agreed to a no shoes policy. Had it been up to Dad the inner city Philly boy, we'd never have left the house without shoes. They have a similar disagreement on the subject of curtains. In short, Mom wants the light, Dad wants the privacy. For nearly fifty years they've been having this discussion.

But back to violets.

As an adult I've found all sorts of fun stories linking gay men and violets -not just pansies- as well as the color purple (Judy Grahn devotes a whole chapter to the subject in her book Another Mother Tongue) , so it's fun to wonder if I was predisposed to like both those things because I was gay. Actually, there are times when I think I'm not just gay, but actually Faery (though I've never been a Radical Faery), given the way I gravitated towards pagan homo things from a very early age. I don't buy a lot of Grahn's book, but it's a fun read, with some great stories and interesting ideas. She'd be the first to acknowledge, I suspect, that as a social historian she makes a great poet.

After I communed with my purple friends for a while, I went up to Belvedere Castle to find the lilacs. On my way there though, I passed this bush, which gave off the most wonderful smell. Can any of my gardening friends tell me what this is? I haven't a clue.

The lilacs also were out, and smelling heavenly. I forgot to take pictures of them, I was too busy sniffing. I'm finally starting to realize that in New York one can lie on the ground to photograph violets, hug trees, or sniff lilacs for twenty minute stretches because:

1. People won't notice

2. If they notice, they won't care

3. If they care, they won't say anything to you.

4. If they say anything, you just need to act a little bit crazy, and they go away

and finally

5. Chances are good that even if none of the above rules hold true, once the encounter is over, you'll never see them again.

Anyway, the lilacs and whatever that other shrub is were intoxicating. I don't know why people don't plant more things that smell good. If I ever have a garden (and live with someone allergy-free, I guess I have to say), I will fill it with lavendar, lilac, basil, thyme, scented geraniums, scented roses (notice how the red ones don't smell like anything now? They were bred for color, not scent), sage, oregano, sweetpeas, rosemary and anything else I can get my hands on. Friends of mine got married on a lavender farm last August, and I had to resist the urge to roll around on the plants throughout the reception.

As I get older, I seem to be noticing and developing more opinions about scent. Sure, as as kid I had my likes (garlic, baking bread, coffee), but it wasn't a sense I gave much time to. Just about the only one, actually. In the last ten years though, boy have I begun to value it. Anybody else have a similar experience with smell, or any other sense?

Having gotten to the end of my planned journey, I realized that the ornamental cherry trees up near the old reservoir were possibly in bloom too. To be honest I figured I had missed them, but it looks like I caught them only just past their peak.

I took the photo above in the Shakespeare Garden. To be honest I find tulips rather dull most of the time, but I loved this combination of colors. I wonder if I can put similar colors together in a friendship bracelet, and not just have the red and green immediately fighting, or looking Christmas-y?

So there's a brief snapshot of my May Day walk. I'll have to wait for the "sex, eros, and dancing" to happen another day, but it still felt festive.