Hi. I turn my back on my computer screen to look through my office window and see that it is once again pouring rain. This is the 567th consecutive day of rain in New York City. What the hell is going on? Is this some sort of end-of-the-world business?
It is June 18th, and it's been over a year since we last saw the sun. I suppose the trees are enjoying this. Or are they? Maybe even the trees are tired of the rain. There comes a point when you can eat and drink no more, when you are full, when even the sight of a tall pint of golden ale turns the stomach. Maybe it is the same for the trees. And maybe all of our great, old trees and all of our upper-class, well-to-do rooftop trees and all of our skinny, awkward, new trees are fed up with this shit, crying silently, praying that the rain will end soon.
I received an e-mail from cover photographer Eric Swanson this morning. He is on a plane, and the plane is not moving. The flight is delayed, perhaps due to rain. Who knows? Eric will be on his way from Santa Fe to Salt Lake City, where he will be shooting the big Blankety Blank Blank for the cover of our September issue. He'll be sending me photos of the trip, which I will share with you here on the blog.
We can look forward to that together, and maybe the rain will end soon.
