Sunday a friend visiting from New York and I went for a walk in the weird woods, and saw the first butterflies of the season. Red Admirals, the ones they say were Nabokov’s favorites, fluttering close to the ground, searching for nectar amid the sparse early foliage. It got me thinking spring must finally be arriving, after a series of crazy cold snaps. Then we got distracted by antlers, a less common sight in Manhattan. As the deer gang watched us warily through the trees, a pair of caracara glided over low, just above the treetops.
Winter in the feral city
Winter in the feral city
Winter in the feral city
Sunday a friend visiting from New York and I went for a walk in the weird woods, and saw the first butterflies of the season. Red Admirals, the ones they say were Nabokov’s favorites, fluttering close to the ground, searching for nectar amid the sparse early foliage. It got me thinking spring must finally be arriving, after a series of crazy cold snaps. Then we got distracted by antlers, a less common sight in Manhattan. As the deer gang watched us warily through the trees, a pair of caracara glided over low, just above the treetops.