After a rather bleary, rainy weekend, the sun arose like a glowing orb on Sunday. It was freezing, of course, as though the city can't quite remember anymore how to find its way to spring. But at least the sun was shining, and if seven overcast years in London have taught me anything, it is to make hay while the sun shines.
The park, abloom with blossoms, was beckoning, so back out came the hats-scarves-gloves-coats and off we trundled, to take advantage of this photo opportunity. Central Park at this time of year is a sight unto itself. In fact, when you think about it, Central Park at any time of year is a sight to behold. But in the spring, when the park is blanketed in a soft layer of snowflake-blossoms, it clean took our breath away (pictures to follow).
It was a few hours before Delta and I could tear ourselves from the scene. By that time, our noses were numb and our fingers were verging on frostbite. We hobbled clumsily homewards, huddled together against the bitter wind.
As we approached the building, I was already dreaming of enveloping myself in the welcome warmth of the apartment. Maybe even a bite to eat and a coffee to warm the cockles. When Ricky, the doorman, stopped us at the door.
"Hey Delta, Ficali, there's been a food delivery for you guys when you were out!"
"Huh? Food delivery?" We hadn't ordered anything. We looked at each other, puzzled.
Ricky handed us a little package, wrapped in tin foil. On it was a quickly scribbled note:
Baked some brownies this morning, thought you guys might like some. Love, Dan & Ilajna.
Brownies! What a delightful surprize. What a perfect end, to a perfect day.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment