home and away

There are few things odder than starting the morning in Wimbledon, in the springtime, with my parents (my father, here, a miniature figure neatly framed by the clematis blossom), and ending the day in damp New Brunswick, with what seemed like the university Glee Club in full male throated voice outside Old Queens, for no apparent reason. Both scenes have green grass in them, but that's about it.