Mid-Winter Carnival

Saturday, February 15, 2014

     There were rose petals on the sidewalks this morning, leftovers from Valentine's Day.  At first I thought they were lost dog boots, then realized the pink-red petals fell from bouquets of roses purchased to celebrate the day with a beloved.

     It was 8:45 a.m. when Beau and I left the apartment, with the temperatures in the almost-balmy thirties.  I had no plans for the day, but thought a trip to Central Park was in order: the last time we attempted it, in a snowstorm, we got no further than Central Park's northern border.  Today the paths would be more accessible and I thought I'd enjoy looking at the vitrines on Madison Avenue.

     It was treacherous walking along the Harlem Meer, lots of "black ice" making passage along the pond a constant test of balance.  In the middle of the Meer, a flock of a dozen Canada geese were enjoying being far beyond the reach of man or dog.

     Beau and I trudged on to the Vanderbilt Garden then towards the East Meadow and the former bridle path around the Reservoir.  At the Engineer's Gate, where the running path around the reservoir is easily broached, there were already runners warming up and a table of cookies set up for them by Road Runners, whose headquarters are down the street.  The runners weren't the only ones in the area, though: there were plenty of people dressed for the weather walking their dogs, as well as individual walkers and pairs of tourists.

     We took the road that winds around the back of the Metropolitan Museum of Art towards the Egyptian obelisk and from there headed to the Conservatory Pond.  When I was a seventh grader at Hunter College High School, I had a job picking up a first grader named Susie Rupp at P.S. 6 on Madison and 81st Street and bringing her home to the brownstone she lived in with her parents and new baby brother on 74th between Fifth and Madison.  On my way home, I'd often pass the Conservatory Pond, where small sailboats held sway amid the nannies, children and mothers.  Today the pond was frozen solid, although the café was open and attracting trade.

     We reached the Bethesda Fountain, where a large high school group from the Midwest was taking photographs.  One intrepid young man scaled the fountain, the better to be photographed wearing his long wool overcoat and brimmed hat.  In the Bethesda Arcade the Minton tiles were gleaming and a group of young black hymn singers were taking advantage of the acoustic to solicit contributions and perhaps, sell a few copies of their CD.

     Beau and I made our way to the Bandshell, where another group of teenagers were belting out "The Star Spangled Banner" before starting a snow fight.  We walked north: On the slopes there were children and parents everywhere, sledding.  At all the entrances we passed, children and parents continued to enter the park, brightly colored ski gear of every sort contrasting with the color of the sleds they carried.  It was a mid-winter carnival: circular purple plastic "trash can" sleds, forest green lozenges, more traditional wooden sleds with metal runners painted red.

     Back on Broadway, everyone looked a bit less enthusiastic about winter than the dog owners, tourists and sledders.  At 10:30 a.m. it began snowing, little flurries which had become good sized ones by 11:00 a.m.  Beau and I walked all the way home, arriving by 12:15 p.m., three and a half hours later.  If I hadn't made myself do it, I'd have been miserable the entire day.  My exertions in the snow-covered park more than made up for not having seen Madison Avenue's vitrines.

     I once read that when Warren Beatty and Madonna were dating, he observed that her mania for exercise was nothing more than a cover for depression.  His advice to her was to allow herself to experience it.  I think Warren was wrong.