“Now did you make sure the shop is open?” I asked Bri as we watched the building numbers get smaller along East 9th Street heading towards Avenue A. She was several yards ahead.

“Well, I just figured, it’s a Tuesday morning.”

We arrived at 406 East 9th Street and the shop was most definitely closed.

The nice boy in the white t-shirt and glasses unlocking his bike informed us they generally open around noon.

Bri, Dan, and I were having an adventure. The morning had started out with scrambled eggs at the apartment I’m sitting for in Greenpoint, followed by coffee at the vegan cafe, Boneshakers, just down the street.

At 10:00 the heat and humidity had already felt oppressive. Why had I chosen hot coffee? Ah well. We continued along Woodpoint Ave, peeked in to see if the older man at the corner of Skillman Ave. was in his kiddie pool yet (nope, too early) and continued along.

Bri was quite excited about checking out ,Flower Power, an herb shop on the Lower East Side. She’s interested in taking classes to become a certified herbalist. I like thinking someone I know could be brewing me up healing tea remedies. A trip to the LES also coincided with my craving for more vegan pastries from Babycakes.

Monday had been a Brooklyn adventure, complete with strolling up and down Bedford Avenue, sipping soy chai shakes at an outdoor cafe, unsuccessfully perusing for vintage blouses, running into a welcome Portland visitor, having a late lunch in Greenpoint at the Americana-hipster restaurant Five Leaves (where everything feels slightly nautical and rustic and the water comes in small glass ball jars), followed by a mid-evening pitcher at a hidden away beer garden.

Tuesday would be all about Manhattan. So we set off for Flower Power, at East 9th and Avenue A. We turned left next to Tomkins Square Park, after Bri stopped to give some money to a couple of gutter punks.

“Here you go sweetie,” she said handing them each a dollar. “Now make sure to share.”

“Oh I share everything,” said the one with red hair and neck tattoos. “Even germs,” he noted enthusiastically.

So the shop was closed.

Perfect timing to make the walk to Babycakes over on Broome Street.

We slowly made our way back down East 9th, partially because the heat made it impossible to consider moving any quicker without fear of immediate heat stroke. We were walking through invisible dripping molasses.

A couple of vegan spelt biscuits with jam, and some homemade lemonade later and we trekked back up to Flower Power.

I sat in the wing chair next to the window while Bri chatted with the friendly girl in the sun dress and black leggings. The entire right side of the tiny shop was lined , floor to ceiling, with wooden shelves filled with large glass jars of herbs with things like Turkish Rhubarb and Wild Lettuce. Rows of display cases filled with tiny vials of essential oils sat on the left side of the shop.

All of the rooms in the New York and here we were. A small room lined with oriental rugs, and stocking  novellas about fairies. New York will be an adventure, one room at a time.

As Bri’s questioned wined down, Dan and I used the  tiny bathroom behind the counter.

Above the sink, written in purple marker on white lined paper was this note:

“Ladies,

Can we please not put anymore frogs or black rats down the drain?! Last week I fished out two webbed toes and a furry tail. Your familiars belong in your magical pouch or under your pointy hat, not roaming free in here.

Thanks.”

There was nothing to imply the note was a joke, not from the way it was written or its placement in a prominent spot. I contemplated asking the girl working if it was for real, and if so, where were her frogs now, but I decided against it.

Time to see if I could use my navigational skills to quickly get us to the Anthropologie on West Broadway.

(We’ll hop on the L, take it to 8th Ave. and switch to the C or E, since the A’s express.)