Over the River and Through the Woods
The 33 mile drive north takes about 40 minutes and takes me across the Whitestone bridge and up the Hutchinson River Parkway. The drives are mostly non-eventful but occasionally you get to see a sad tractor trailer stuck under a low over-pass; the top of its crumpled trailer peeled open like sardines. 20 minutes into the drive and any semblance of the city with its billboards and concrete-and-steel highrises I know so well is gone.
Tall trees and lush foliage line both sides of the gently winding parkway randomly punctuated by low-arching stone bridges. Cars ahead in the distance disappear around bends into the thick copse of greenery. The tiptops of tree limbs lean slightly over making a leafy canopy that lets dappled sunlight through. There’s one curved section lined by a comb of thin narrow trees; as I drive by the effect is the sun hurriedly flickering on and off (like being in an old-fashioned spinning zoetrope.) Exiting the parkway, it’s a short drive onto the local road to the studio on the hill. When I reach the top, I’m overlooking a forest and rolling hills as far as one can see.
My 2 ½ year old recognizes the Blue Sky logo on my jacket. She says: “daddy work? Birds movie?” (she means Rio.) She likes a cup of milk, her pillow double-fluffed, and her fairy tales right before bedtime. So when she asks: “where does daddy go work?” Like one of her stories, I tell her that I go over the river and through the woods.