This past Sunday I took off on a little adventure with Ollie (the dog) to Inwood Hill Park, at 218th Street and the Henry Hudson Parkway—the northernmost tip of Manhattan. Sorry to say I'd never been, but, a posting at The NYTimes City Room blog, about the park, got me interested.
From its website at: http://www.nycgovparks.org/parks/inwoodhillpark: Inwood Hill Park is a living piece of old New York. Evidence of its prehistoric roots exists as dramatic caves, valleys, and ridges left as the result of shifting glaciers. Evidence of its uninhabited state afterward remains as its forest and salt marsh (the last natural one in Manhattan), and evidence of its use by Native Americans in the 17th century continues to be discovered.
The Park is pretty amazing. Here's a pic I took along a trail—there are many—looking down a steep incline at the Spuyten Duyvil bridge—the inlet connects the Hudson with the East River.
|Inwood Hill Park, Spuyten Duyvil Bridge, 2011.|
So what has this got to do with Sunday coffee? Well after walking this magical trail we took a serendipitous wrong-turn and wound up quite a ways from where we began—I'd guess 3 miles in all—at Dyckman Street, the other end of the Park. Heading toward the subway what do I spot but a sign, of a cup, but not just any cup, a golden cup—I felt like I'd come upon the Goose that Laid the Golden Egg. The cup, below, is a sign on the window of a sweet little men's clothing shop owned by Jason, a sweet guy. (Forgive the cloying use of 'sweet.') The sun was shining, the weather was mild, the day eventful and I found my most recent blog entry.
|Gold Cup, Nostylgia, Inwood, 2011.|
|Gold Cup, Nostylgia, interior, Inwood, 2011.|