Not In Hamilton's Backyard!

Nobody likes seeing broken-down cars or trucks rusting away in someone's front yard.  Part of the reason, of course, is that it's unsightly and can be a health hazard.  But I think it also has to do with the perception that anyone who keeps the rotting hulks of motor vehicles next to his or her house is low-class.  Some people, I'm sure, associate decaying station wagons and vans with trailers rather than solid middle-class homes.

I think most people would be even more surprised to see such waste next to a brownstone in a fashionable part of the city.  Certainly, almost nobody expects to see something like this:

in front of a landmarked brownstone in a designated historic district.  But I saw that pile of bikes and parts in front of such a house in Hamilton Heights, just two blocks away from the house once owned by the man for whom the district--and a popular Broadway musical--are named.

I would love to know the story of how all of those bikes and parts ended up there.  

The Heights Of Fall

Today is the first day of Fall.  And it feels like it, in a pleasant way:  Billowy but thin clouds waft over cool breezes.

A few hundred kilometers north of here, the leaves have begun to change color. Here, though, they're still green.  So if we want Fall colors, we must look elsewhere:

People who don't know the area don't associate these houses with Harlem.  But they line Convent Avenue, a street that bisects the City College campus in a part of Harlem known as Hamilton Heights.  

I was all smiles on my bike, and everyone and everything--including the stones of these houses--seemed to smile back.