New York City, June 30, 2013

★ An enervated shuffle through possibilities, one abandoned after another. The sun, though impaired, gathered enough strength to cast some shadows, then let the clouds take over again. It was hot in the hallways. Just as the children could finally be herded out into the afternoon, a shower began, the drops soft and widely spaced at first, but large. Rings of ripples opened on the surface of the dark, edgeless fountain-pond in the overdesigned garden, and then the whole surface went to flickering entropy. “The ripples look like moving light,” the older boy said, as his little brother ran laps out in the open. A bouncing ball made a reverb-soaked chiming sound in the right spot under the concrete overhang of the tower. The hostas were dense and mounded high like a levee by the walkway. Gusts sent shimmering bands of white across the trembling water. The toddler ran till his hair was plastered to his forehead. A piece of hosta leaf had ended up his fist. By piano-lesson time, the rain was effectively over, but the older boy insisted on being guided down the street under an umbrella too hefty for him to handle alone. Pale gray soporific light, steadily brightening, came through the windows as the Bach was sorted out into manageable shapes and figures. Afterward came an interlude of clear sun, with the occasional droplet of uncertain origin, before the sky clouded over sloppily. Two jet skis out on the Hudson shot the gap between Trump buildings.