We received a photo from our son yesterday. It was a photo of his bare feet buried in the green grass of Prospect Park. It turns out he lives less than three miles from the second largest park in the area, designed by the same two fellows who designed Central Park. It is a lovely place with huge trees, open grassy leas, golf and tennis courts, a small zoo, a dog park complete with a doggy pool and a beautiful bike path, among other attractions. The cement city of Brooklyn has this haven within easy biking distance for the son. He is delighted by it. The loss of Vancouver vegetation was the one consideration that could have scuttled the entire New York venture. It's streets lined with ferns, tall trees, hedges and massive flowering plants have been his places of healing for the past 15 years, so we were delighted to find out he has easy access to such a place of beauty.
It seems he may have found a new place to live for September first. This week he is going to meet the other roommates and hopes it will work out. I doubt he will be in touch much until most of the current issues have been settled. He is like his dad that way. He likes to wait until there is something specifically resolved to tell. They both get stressed if people constantly ask them if their issues have been solved yet. I am so much the opposite, as my long suffering family and friends can attest to. hahaha
It is Monday of the August long weekend here: Saskatchewan Day I believe. My husband does not get long weekends in this job. Even yesterday on his day off he was fielding work calls. As Commissary in the Bishop's absence he has to be on call all day every day, but I hope and pray nothing drastic comes along to take priority over this autumn's Synod planning.
It is 6:30am and I don't want to get up and wake my happily dozing husband, so I think I will sit here in bed and finally complete the Diana Mosley biography.