The Wind in Red Hook

This weekend brought a cold front through New York and its passing was marked by high winds. Trees fell throughout Brooklyn. One in the alley behind our brownstone lost a limb to a long day of gust. It crashed to the ground smashing two fences. No one was hurt. I bicycled down to Red Hook against the wind. Pedaling was hard work and the water of the Erie Basin was in a state of turmoil. 3-foot waves crashed over the stone quais. The afternoon was glorious for this weather with high blue skies and bright sunshine. The wind pushed me home safe and sound. Parts of New Jersey were without power thanks to downed branches. Brooklyn was fine. Even the howls of the gales was magic.

This ain’t no Kansas and I ain’t no Dorothy.

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