Up on the roof, the first watermelon and eggplants were ripe, so were picked. The cherry tomatoes ripen hourly, it seems, except the Red Pear, which has been a bust. Out it will come this weekend.
Summer savoury, all self-seeded from last year.
No matter what has happened during the day, hoisting myself up onto the roof to give everything a drink in the evening washes it away. It is my Great Plains, my prairie, my only mountaintop. There is always wind off the water. Things are different up there.
The strawberries are getting ready for round...four?
And out in New York Harbor people are messing about in boats.
For more about life in and on and near the water in these parts, read The New York Times City Room series A Week on the Water. There are some interesting errors, but also good stories.