New York City, August 2, 2015

★★★★ Sun gleamed on the paintjobs of a helicopter, a red car, a stubby airplane, another helicopter. A sunbather lay out on the roof of the new tower, which had acquired shrubs in planter boxes. The light was sharp and the heat with it was even sharper. Outside the Museum of Natural History, in the narrow dappled shade of some oaks, a stone bench baked unwary sitters with it stored-up heat. The shade in the Park was more substantial and effective. By a shaded outcropping of schist, mica glittered in the stone and the dust around it. The three-year-old attacked the rock face from above and below. Ants swarmed the wrappings of the cookies. The bridle path was strewn with fallen Cornelian cherries. A red-tailed hawk sat not very far above. A monarch butterfly fed on a patch of milkweeds, purple ones and red-budded ones opening into brilliant yell0w-orange. A short walk on the streets was much worse than the hours in the Park had been.