On my way to work one recent morning, a problem with the F train compelled me to get off one stop before my usual one and walk up 6th Avenue. As droplets from the spray of the many fountains landed on my face, scattered by the wind, I could think only of how much I'd rather be on the ferry, passing by those first outlying islands so crowded with pines.
On my way to the wine store another day I noticed a new ice cream shop in my neighborhood; I contemplated going in but it just couldn't taste as good as it does after an early morning hike on one the island's trails.
And on mornings when I've walked the dog and struggled to keep him from snacking on the discarded chicken bones and pizza crusts littering the sidewalk, I thought of how much nicer it is to take him for his morning walk at the Lane's Island nature preserve, where the only thing he'll get to nibble on is the occasional found blackberry I'm willing to share.
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Ferries, secluded islands, ice cream, blackberries, crumbling hippie shacks. That's the life.
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