Washout

Memorial Day weekend was a washout.  To paraphrase Linda Evangelista, after becoming a snowbird I don't get out of bed if it's less than 60 degrees.  So-so weather arrived on Monday, along with Thom.

Varick's cooking always helps resist the impulse to flee.  He whipped up some crab cakes for dinner one evening.  They required a wet, chilly walk to the Pantry which allows in-person shopping again.

Interesting sticker.

Flags above the Pines.  

FIPPOA is replacing the flag that my friend Ted designed in the 90s.  Out with the old and in with the new.  Not very respectful in my view.  Ted donated his work; FIPPOA profited from it.  Why change a good thing?

The slow encroachment of the Grove continues.  Not that there's anything wrong with that.

But they still do house signs better. 

There's even a flag with the Queens belter's face to go with this witty one.

Paint improved the fountain.

Bikes are a lot more plentiful in the Pines.  Not sure I'm on board with that.  The boardwalks are already too crowded.

This lovely goldfinch committed hari kiri against my bedroom window.  An omen?  Is my time in the Pines coming to an end now that we're inhabiting a house with three other havoc-wreaking quarter shares?

Perhaps this dog provides a metaphorical answer.