Prospect Park, Brooklyn.
Lovely things- outside of the Urbane.
Each weekend I look forward to this very process. Wake, feed the pug, crawl back in bed- an eventual waking- up to Prospect Park. Vibrant with rolling green, young families- BBQ's and canine encounters. We peruse the the outdoor market to pick up a loaf of bread, fresh mulled cider and produce. A simple meal, we pair it with a Summer wine. I've been attempting to delve into the roses lately. I'm not so much a fan of 'pink wine,' it just feels so- Fresno, for the lack of a better comparison.