Ocean

Is it all that I can write about? Today, yes. The park burst at the Gates. Pleats and skirts and billowing sheaths of fabric, still at times...

and when two lovers meet... 

a dizzying look toward the sky 

staid pleats mildly tickled by the sun 

wacky and out of control! 

keeping order, grinning broadly 

no more sun? no moon tonight? no problem, the lamps will help... 

one more stroll... 

A dark lake path made brighter by saffron banners. 

The gates spill out their skirts today. Christo, the artist, has repeatedly said that there is no “opening show,” no beginning, that it is a...

In the press box: New York chutzpah, Midwestern temerity, Polish spunk. 

The Mayor does the honors; Christo and Jeanne-Claude watch. 

Jeanne-Claude's hair against the orange of the gate; flanked by Christo and Mayor Bloomberg. 

The Gates crew: enjoying a group pull to release yet another panel of fabric. 

A gust raises the skirts. 

Now that the "frames" have the added fabric, they have become curvy and flirtatious.  

From the top of a rock, watching the wave of orange unfold. 

Last moments before the tightly held cocoons at the top of the gates are opened. I walk to Whole Foods – why? Because it forces me to cross ...

The pre-dusk blue tone makes its way down to the trees and path... 

The sun hits the orange post head on, as it retreats for the day