Summer in the Park

Did you ever feel like you were in a painting? I felt like that once in a Paris park--surrounded by beautiful flowers, beautiful children and a beautiful day. And I felt like that recently in New York. New York? Yes, in Central Park. It happened when my quiet Saturday evening stroll was overwhelmed by the sights of a hillside covered with thousands of runners in the Corporate Challenge, and, a bit closer, by a meandering Shakespeare troupe with its meandering audience, and by groups of picnickers with beautiful children chasing the resident waterfowl, and in the water, by a number of mallards paddling beneath the stare of a visiting egret. All framed by the graceful sweep of swaying, weeping willow trees. It was a painting and I was in it.

I'm not sure what percentage of New Yorkers leave on the weekends between July and August; I know it's not a majority, but, to my way of thinking, they've no idea what they're missing.

Welcome

As part of a growing trend of empty nesters to the Big Apple, I thought it would be interesting to open a dialogue with other transplants to see how we're all faring. How we've adjusted to the noise, the crowds, the pollution. To the fact that most New Yorkers go out for the evening at 10pm and that stores don't open til 11 the next morning. That the subways, though fast, require a hefty stairway climb and that parking garages cost almost as much as our apartments.

And, in spite of the negatives, how many times a day/week do we have our "I Love NY" moments. When we pass a high-end stroller with three of the most adorable pooches in it or happen onto an unexpected festival and parade--replete with exotic food and dancing and music. Or simply enjoy the very real pleasure of a leisurely walk home from a world-class movie, ballet or show on a balmy evening when the younger residents have headed East to the Hamptons. For me, New York is inarguably the best city in the world and I feel extraordinarily luck to be here. How about you?