I've Got a Bridge in Brooklyn I Can Sell Ya'

I never knew seasons before I moved to the East Coast.

I knew hot and dry, not so hot and dry, and the terror of driving San Diego freeways in the *occasional* rain. Before living in Philadelphia, I thought cold was 55 degrees.

It takes about 6 years of living in a region with four distinct seasons to really appreciate Perfect Weather. I’m not talking 72 and sunny, take-it-for-granted Southern California weather, but that crisp, on-the-verge-of-a-new season, mild sun, bright-blue skies weather that bookends summer.

Mother Nature had just crossed the threshold into summer on the hazy May evening Scott and I walked across the Brooklyn Bridge. 

We strolled as the sun set, casting pale pinks and purples and soft golden whites across the skyline.

We stopped in the dusky shadows and admired the astounding beauty of the bridge itself, its twisting wire spider webs and brick arches, amazed at the feat that was its design and construction. 

 And on the other side...there was ice cream.