Sunday afternoon and R. gets it into his head that he wants an ice cream --not any old ice cream but gelato. So we walk down to the Chelsea Market where there are a hundred billion people -- as I had said there would be and the line for said ice cream is much too long...
So we climb up to the High Line itself where there is a nice little cart but fewer flavors. Strawberry will suffice.
There were ice pops also
and a rather unusual form of lupin
the first flush of roses
the first outing of the sundress
then descending to the real world
down the steps to 23rd Street
where there were hotdogs and pretzels
and different (less swanky) kinds of icecream
not to mention the car-wash.