Yesterday we drove out to the North Fork of Long Island to pick up some perennials for a garden that was to be planted in SoHo today (post tomorrow), and to scout for some special shade plants for the Tribeca terrace in afew weeks. No matter how industrious or thorough one thinks one is, seeing new plants is often the best inspiration for planting an interesting garden that works through the seasons.
It's a long trek: 2 hours and 100 miles from Manhattan, but it pays back in terms of results. I think.
And my father says: Results count.
Boy, did we hate hearing that.
After driving and walking through all of Jim and Joanne Glover's fields, taking copious notes and lots of pictures, squeaking at various Interesting Things, and picking up my agastache, calamintha, nasella and pennisetum for the SoHo terrace, Vince and I drove another ten minutes to a beach he'd found on a map.
We could not have imagined how perfect it would be.
There were a few houses, whose owners I envied.
There were six people on the beach , propped up in chairs, facing the September sun.
And there was the water. Clear. Blue. Green. Crystalline. I had not expected this colour or quality facing the Long Island Sound, and the mainland many miles across from us, but we were at the very tip of Long Island, so the Atlantic has plenty of space to wash in.
A swimming section was cordoned off, below, the buoys making a lovely line in the water.
We were seeing it on a weekday after Labor Day, so Summer's Over, was the feeling. Perhaps in season it is mobbed. But it was so clear, quiet and beautiful, that the hour or less that we spent having lunch, lying listening to the water, and walking to look at the water-washed stones, felt like a long gentle medicine that I didn't know I needed.
We did not have swimsuits and didn't want to offend the locals. We did not know we would find this place.
Our picnic was basic, and we'd picked up a local Pinot Noir from Duckwalk Vineyards for a glass each before driving back.
Burrata and tomatoes with terrace basil on ciabatta, some prosciutto, Persian cucumbers with salt...
We lay back and listened.
And breathed in.
And were very happy.