I had nothing to wear...I was NOT about to wear jeans to the park on such a warm day...
So, I whipped up a skirt in a few hours, and I did it all by myself! I used the serger and the sewing machine in the basement (I finally got it working!). The ribbed fabric gave me some trouble, and the tension and stitch length wasn't quite right. The hems made the fabric a little wavy, and the thread kept breaking, so the hemlines are broken and ugly. I am super happy anyway. I did the best I could (it was decent enough for my experience), and I had no problem wearing it to the park! Lindsay decided to wear the shirt that I reconstructed for her!
Before heading to Central Park, Lindsay and I went and picked up lunch at the Union Square Greenmarket. We bought cheese and herb bread, a vegetarian lentil and carrot wrap, a vegetarian spinach and cheese wrap, kimchi tofu, homemade applesauce, cranberry oatmeal cookies, and apple cider doughnuts. Yeah, Lindsay and I eat a lot.
We also picked up a poem. A young man was typing free poems for people, and wrote us a poem about our trip to the park, rolling in the grass, and picnics. He whipped out a beautiful poem in about 7 minutes. I love the use of imagery in literature becaue it allows me to close my eyes and dream...
He told me that he writes about 60 poems a week for people as he sits by a little fountain in Union Square. A French woman came by and said that she could write a poem for him about Union Square in French, and he handed her a pen and paper. When she finished, he had her read it to him, even though he did not not understand French. The beauty lied in the sounds of the words, not necessarily the meaning of the words. He listened carefully, genuinely thanked her and placed the poem in his old brown leather bag. Some day, I think I will write a poem about him, take it to him, and read it to him; I don't know why. He just makes me want to write a poem. I think he has the power to influence people because he enjoys what he does so much, and people see that. The following are Lindsay's words: "I believe that this man truly loves what he does. Though he could keep the poems that he writes in Union Square for his portfolio, he gives all of them away to the people who meet him at his typewriter."
Oh boy, now I'm feeling poetic...So, here is my literary account of our experience at Central Park.
We reached the park, and settle in the shade on the outskirts of the great lawn. We "chowed down", as Lindsay put it, and then rolled around in the grass with our full bellies. There were lots of children at the park, being carried, climbing rocks, running in the grass, discovering "fossils". I just closed my eyes and listened to their excited voices and the pit-pat of their feet on the sidewalk.
The breeze chilled the air, and we packed up and decided to settle on a huge rock that had shoved itself out of the earth. The rock was warm and reminded me the time that my brother had turtles that stretched out on their rock, eyes closed, face toward the lamp...and then Lindsay and I fell asleep.
We were out for about half an hour! We had no desire to get up at all. I just couldn't believe how wonderful I felt, lying there in such a gorgeous place. We had no worries, no cares, and our souls had been replenished.
We have been more relaxed and happy...