March 21 and 22, 2020 (Saturday and Sunday)
Today was the second morning in a row I heard crows fly by my inner city windows. I have long thought it would be good to speak or at least understand, “crow”. Early yesterday morning I heard foghorns. Am I noticing more sounds because the city is so much quieter? Or is something fundamentally different? The atmosphere is unlike anything I have ever seen here, even in tense situations of rising water, loss of electricity or terrorist attacks.
Yesterday it was in the 70s, today my hands were raw with cold by the time I delivered freshly cut plum branches to my mother. I handed the bound bunch to her doorman and took the opportunity to ride the Central Park loop. The first time I’ve gone all the way around it in years. Runners and walkers were everywhere; unlike in the rest of the city, it felt like normal times. It is not business as usual, and, for the first time in my adult life, the politicians, in these troubled times are not suggesting that their people go shopping. They (most of them) are telling us to stay home.
Clearly new territory.
This entry is also a part of Delayering.