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Due to the vagaries of certain life circumstances, such as imminent travel plus career changes, this week’s post, usually in the form of the English language, will now take the form of photos. And because photos are worth a thousand words each, and I generally have poopoo de le parole écrite, or written word diarrhea, and my posts are eleventy million words long (actual mathemagical term), you may not even notice the difference between said photos and my usual drivel.

Anyways. This is a romantic time of year. Not for people, no. For nature! Grass is a fine emerald, flowers are at their peak, and bushes and trees are verdant and wavy. Thunderstorms boom across the sky like in 19th-century novels where there are multiple heroines named Catherine and bosoms heave. Dogs sniff each other, bees sniff pollen, and pigeons are randy. This is New York in late Spring, before the heavy heat arrives and cartoon stink lines get drawn over the entire city.

I tried to capture all of this teeming life as I walked around the Jackie O. Reservoir in Central Park over the weekend. Here’s what I saw:

I can’t read and take photos at the same time, so I don’t know what this says.

That’s where the Mayor of Munchkinland lives.

I was able to capture a most elusive specimen: the red tank-topped jogger. Rare in these parts.

Somebody lives there. It’s OK to hate them.

I like the macro setting on my camera.

But I think it might be time for a new camera. It performs just fine, but there are younger, faster, more attractive cameras out there with better features. Just ask Newt Gingrich.

One of my least favorite colors is yellow. But I’m working on it.

I like orange. But does it like me?

This is where they throw the bodies.

You know what they say: still waters run deep. These waters majored in Philosophy at Harvard.

Upon reflection, it’s really nice here.

* All images c. Erin KLG

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