New York City, August 6, 2014

★★★★ After a foreboding moment, blue showed through the gray. It was surprisingly cool early; thin sheets of cloud took the edge off the sun, and little breezes were moving. The sidewalks were well smeared with dog shit, the rain long overdue to make up for accumulated inconsideration. Potted boxwoods awaited planting at the feet of the street trees on Broadway. Down at the river at midday, the coolness persisted. A flight of Canada geese flapped upriver, lower than the elevated roadway, seemingly intent on some distant destination. Then they came back the other way, and back again, less purposeful at every pass. At last they pulled themselves once more into a tidy V, passing so low over the pier that the hiss of air over their feathers was audible. Late in the day, the schoolyard was shaded, despite light flaring off the tops of the buildings. The two-year-old on his scooter nearly mowed down a pair of older children, and was alarmed only by the sight of their alarm. As he lobbied to stay longer, dark clouds came up abruptly, and a sharp wind sent dry leaves scraping eastward over the concrete. A few blowing raindrops helped chase the expedition home for dinner, and then the disturbance was over entirely.