At least I haven't been spending so much time in restaurants. Thursday morning Mary and I went out to the botanic garden in the Bronx. The well-advertised exhibit wasn't so spectacular, but the Poet's Walk and the lily pond were spectacular. Here is a photo of someone doing a tricky bit of photography. Just imagine if the camera dropped into the water.

I don't know if the other photographer found it as amusing as I did.

We had lunch at the garden, but most of our visiting was done walking around–my doctor would approve.

Dinner was a long visit with Jean at another restaurant, but I've been sticking to salads.

Friday was a real walking day. Phyllis and I went up on the High Line. This is a real winner. The city converted an old railroad track into a long, skinny park. It's a great place: you can see into back yards, roof gardens and other usually hidden places.

Here the tracks remain, but the ties are covered with something that makes for easy walking.

The path rose above the tracks, visible below, and everything is landscaped beautifully.

This time we had a large, late lunch. After I got back to the apartment, worn out, I had a very small dinner alone. 

No dates today so I went down to Union Square by myself. I was going to go out to Brooklyn to a Saturday event called a Smorgasburg–more food–but opted instead for a street fair in the village. Bought more earrings, and a Mozzarepa for lunch; wandered through the green market in Union Square then over to Lincoln Center, hoping to get a ticket for War Horse. No luck. Looked at quilts at the folk art museum, walked over to Lee's Art Supply to check for more paper; finally got a bus and I'm vegging out at the apartment. 

I'm worried: if I can't get through three weeks in NY, how will I do six weeks in Japan next year. Maybe it's the heat.