Cole Porter wrote about loving Paris in the springtime; but for me it’s always been about New York.  There’s still a crisp chill in the air, but the skies are blue and the sun is bright and the flowers and trees have begun to bloom.  Really, it’s all quite magnificent.

I’ve just returned from a week in my former stomping grounds and never have my mother’s words rung more true; “New York should be done when you’re young; when you’re rich; and with any luck, both.”  Since one is slipping-away with every passing year, and the other has thus far eluded my grasp, I’m fortunate to have some very generous sponsors, friends, hoteliers, restaurateurs, and the like, who make such trips feasible and enjoyable – negating the need to go Greyhound and stay at the Westside YMCA.

As such, over the next week or so, I’ll be regaling you with tales of my most recent trip to la grande pomme, a city meant for walking (which I partook of, whenever possible), watching (which I did constantly), and relishing (which I’m still doing, now).

Springtime in New York

Get into it!