Yesterday the temperature rose into the balmy (at least for those of you in places like North Dakota) 20's, or around -5C. So I went for an afternoon ride which, among other things, zigzagged the border between Brooklyn and Queens.
The border between the US and Canada has a Peace Garden. Probably the closest thing our interborough boundary has is Highland Park, with the Ridgewood Reservoir as its centerpiece.
Somehow it feels even more like a reflection of deep winter than all of the displays or any day-after-snowstorm vista in this city.
I usually see at least a couple of cyclists there. Yesterday I was riding solo, though I saw a fair number of people walking their dogs, or with each other. Some looked happy to be there, but others eyed me, and other strollers, with suspicion, as if we'd intruded on their own private Idaho, if you will.
I can't say I blame them. I know I've referred to Highland Park as our local Montmartre for its location on the highest point in the area and the views it offers. Of course, it doesn't have the onion-domed cathedral (my favorite building in Paris) and I reckon that fewer people visit the park in a year than visit one of the most iconic places in the City of Light in a year.
It's kind of ironic that in writing about it on this blog, I'm more likely to tip off someone in Belleville or Berlin than the folks in Bensonhurst or Belle Harbor about a place where I go for a quick ride and the cheapest form of therapy (along with a cuddle from Marlee) I know about.
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