| photography by andie furber |
In New York City, there are a handful of days each year that we like to call feral spring. They arrive just after a long, bitter winter—the sun finally breaks through, the streets fill up, and suddenly all you want is an Aperol Spritz on the sidewalk.
| photography by andie furber |
It never lasts long. Early spring in New York is fickle—66 degrees one day, 32 the next—but for those brief moments, the energy is unmistakable. The city feels electric. Everyone is a little unhinged, a little euphoric, and fully alive, chasing that first taste of summer. In a word, feral.
Consider this a love letter to feral spring in New York. The magnolias are blooming, the daffodils are pushing through, and the only acceptable plan is to be outside, drink in hand, soaking it all in.
If you haven't heard, we ♥️ NY. Read more on the blog >