Couldn’t sleep the other night — and feeling a little under the weather — so figured I’d have myself a cuppa lemon-ginger tea.

Then I remembered what a honey-loving friend told me about the healing properties of the nectar of the bees. So I dug through my pantry and pulled out a bottle of honey I’d purchased long ago at the Farmers Market (oh —
and honey never spoils either).

This honey was made by bees who spent their days busy at the High Line. Figured that would make the it all the more healing because we all share the same bugs (and uh-hum bees) in this neighborhood.

Simply bzzzzing with health after that cuppa infused with the essence of the High Line.

I am morally, ethically, spiritually, physically, positively, absolutely, un-de-niably and re-liably in love. Certifiably. With the High Line, that is. That delightful park built upon the elevated track right next to the Hudson River, along the west side of Manhattan.

Last week, Section 2 of the High Line opened up to the public. I have been waiting for just the right time to experience it myself. I usually walk in the early morning, both because it fits into my schedule and because there are usually very few people up there at that time. It always thrills me – whatever the season. But, man, they have dressed my High Line up for this particular moment. Like a grand dame all dolled up for the ball. The trees are lush, the flowers blooming, even the grasses are puffed up like peacocks.