Longing for refuge (part 2)

I considered simply not writing a part 2 to the refuge entry, but today i found fodder for it.

My new friend & neighbor upstairs, Alicia, let me go running with her last Monday. We walked with her husband down to Central Park, then took off on a jog that was too slow for him, so he sped on ahead of us. As we churned up a twisting hill behind the Lasker Rink and Pool, then down another hill to find ourselves back on 5th Avenue (or here known as Central Park East), Alicia mentioned to me that one of her new commitments was to spend more time in the park.
To have Central Park within walking distance is a treasure not to be avoided while one has it (and is paying dearly for its proximity!).

So today i went for a brisk afternoon walk to the Park. To the tall man on the way who said, "Hey, wanna hang out?" as i sped by, i turned with a laugh and replied, "not today." Later, to the man who said, "Hey, Snow White, howyadoin," i didn't know what to say, and a few steps too late realized the best reply would have been, "Just fine. How you doin, Prince Charming?"

Once inside the park through the northern most central gate, i skirted the Meer and passed a dozen or more men fishing lazily, passing on the sport to a younger boy or girl. Just south of the Meer I discovered (in the same way Columbus discovered America) a lovely forested hill winding with paths, hidden benches and slopes where several young families and couples had staked out space.

Down below i found my destination--The Conservatory Garden. Alicia and i had taken a cursory stroll through on our run day, but this time, i took a slower pace. I noticed more closely the sculpture of the dancing maidens, the thick blooms crowding the four arches marking the entry to their courtyard. As i wandered, i came to a garden we'd missed the first time. Designed more like a labyrinth with tall hedges of flowers in concentric rings, i took a slow turn through, examining with joy the deep late-summer blooms of gold, purple, magenta, crimson, and cerulean. Photographers slunk and stilled in every ring; more couples and families sat drinking in the late afternoon calm. A writer sat with her legs curled beneath her in a cozy bend of the outer path ("ah! that's what i'll do," i thought!). At the center was a bronze statue of a boy hunched down with a flute, a young girl standing above him holding a bowl to bathe the birds. Beneath them, lilies burst in bright hues.

Although it's impossible to escape the blare of sirens or alarms for long, there is a calm in the park that enables us to remain human in this city. I am glad to have been reminded there's a true refuge so closeby, even with hidden bits of "wilderness" that might possibly tide me over until my return home.

Wherever that is...