Stacy Horn

There is a plaque beneath this tree which reads:

1836 – 1936. This tree from the Virginia Estate of former President James Madison presented to the city of New York by the Fifth Avenue Association, Inc. to commemorate the first centennial of the opening of Madison Avenue.

It’s in Madison Park (23rd and a bunch of other streets). I realized I couldn’t come up with a single fact about Madison beyond the fact that he was president, and yet New York City loved him enough to name an avenue after him. Why? He must have done something really great for us. Googling. Okay, apparently it all got started because some guy named William “Corporal” Thompson had a farmhouse and this site and he named it Madison Cottage. He was the Madison fan. From there we got Madison Avenue and then Madison Square Garden. Madison, Madison, Madison.

Madison was the “father of the Constitution.” I should have known that. Embarrassed. He was also one of the authors of the Bill of Rights although initially he was against writing them, and one of his reasons was “it was dangerous, since enumeration of some rights might be taken to imply the absence of other rights.”

It just started raining. Big storm coming apparently. Not a good time to be in Madison Park.

Check it out!! What is that? I googled and I’m guessing house finch. Does anyone know? (Karen?) I also had a couple of blue jays, but they’ve been here before and they fly off the second I reach for my camera.

Except I’ve been working so far. But if I get enough done I can be a slug tomorrow. This is a planter I passed by … somewhere in Manhattan. Pretty, no? I like the lion faces, and the peeling paint white.

And so he waits, faithfully. My cats are all about the birds now. The poor birds must feel like it’s a trap. No sooner do they land and start eating when a cat rushes at the window. The braver ones, like in the picture below with Buddy, stare. It’s like a bird/cat stand off.

BIRDS: Do we dare come closer?
BUDDY: Sure. What could go wrong?

It kinda feels like the mourning doves vs the pigeons out there, and since the doves are smaller I can’t help but root for them. I’m not sure what to do. I thought I might out another cup of food or something, but then I realized, it’s not like the birds will politely divide up. This cup is for us, and that cup is you guys.

Meanwhile, the food from a truck business has expanded into waffles, except they spell it with one “f” and also offer something called “dinges.” I do not know what those are.