So we moved recently. Well, relatively recent. In May. At the height of the pandemic. The uprooting was especially difficult given the world that we found ourselves in. Organizing movers in the days when even a look could feel too much and breathing in another’s vicinity felt ominous. The poor movers, essential workers, handling the situation in the best way they could, leaving the job half done. Us wrapping up over the next few days, masked and with two kids in tow. Waking up in an apartment of boxes, all of us, with nowhere to go. You get the idea. It was rough but we did it.

An unexpected joy of it all, however, was that the move brought me back to a stone’s throw of my beloved Fort Greene park and its fabulous farmer’s market. With all the chaos that existed and still does in the world, this was a beam of verdant green and muted, sometimes brilliant, gold this summer. I tried to get to the park as often as possible, spending many Saturday mornings, running or practicing yoga outdoors and then walking down to the market; to return home laden with goodness overflowing onto the table in a rainbow of colors. I took many pictures (of course). This bounty of vegetables also made me explore new ways of cooking, lots of roasting and pickling. I feel this year has been such a fog and I am just clearing my head or attempting to do so and get back to writing. As shadows lengthen and sharpen, trees shed coral, amber and brown leaves, and the ground is crunchy in parts while rotting in others, these pictures are a farewell to a vivid summer that passed unlike any before it.