The Big Dig

It's the annual ritual of redistribution of wealth from the folks along Park Avenue to the rest of us peons, like Scrooge distributing the Christmas turkey (or was it geese?) - the annual digging of the tulip bulbs from the planted medians!

And, of course, growing up as I did of modest means, I don't say no to free stuff - usually.  And in this case, I am not saying no to good quality tulip bulbs, although I must admit to being at a bit of a loss as to where to plant said bulbs.  I considered taking some to Marmy, but I am not quite sure where in the Mother Garden they might go either.

But I will figure it out.  First thing's first - I had to get to digging... and so I did.  First I had packed a hand rake into a handbag that I took to lunch with my college friend, A, in from town from Richmond.  We ate at Craftbar (delish!).  I figured I could stop by Park Avenue on the way home.  But then I got distracted shopping in Chelsea, and then it started to rain.  So it didn't happen on Saturday afternoon.  But then I was super-resolved to do it Sunday.  Of course, the slight shame of availing myself of free bulbs did cause me to rise and go a bit earlier in the day than I otherwise would have - attempt to be a bit surreptitious about the whole endeavor.  Not sure why the shame should set in, this was a perfectly sanctioned salvaging, but there you have it; the perpetual shame of the poor.

And I thought to add gardening gloves and the bulb digger tool to the mix - very glad for that decision; it made the task easier - the hand rake alone would not have been enough (good thing it rained the day prior and I didn't have a chance to go it alone with hand rake).  And, the gardening gloves classed up the endeavor a bit.  The few people out and about and who crossed the street right at that intersection most ignored me, I think.  Maybe a few were curious - so it felt better digging on the dug side.  But there was one older man who greeted me with good morning; hard to tell whether it was a condescending "I see what you are doing" sort of a greeting, or a genuine "I know what you are doing and I would much rather these bulbs not get wasted, although I would never dig in the dirt" sort of greeting.  But I had on my sleek running outfit - leggings, light running breaker - I think I looked the part of the Upper East Sider who just happens to be environmentally conscientious, not necessarily the middle class Upper Far East Sider.  So I'd like to think, anyway.

Someone had already started digging in this one - made it easier for me to keep going.

The one on the other side of this street still looked pristine - I was not quite ready to ruin it.

I tucked into my light running zip-up a plastic bag to carry home my loot.



It was hard work.  I was there for nearly an hour, I think.  Despite the rain from the day before, the soil actually was rather dry and packed.



I'd like to think I was doing a service.  Someone would just have to come through and dig all of these up anyway, and then haul them to a composter.  At least, I hope they get hauled to a composter, and not simply to a landfill.  What a true waste that would be.  In years past, my sissy ("Sissy") has said a lot of the planted beds were almost entirely dug up - at least, the ones she had gone to.  Maybe those were closer to midtown, back when she worked down that way, where the secretaries and support staff from the office buildings surrounding those medians would be more likely to take advantage.  Because up in my neck, truly, still pristine and un-dug beds.

Some dirt - sure sign of my digging guilt.

I found a pair of plastic crates on the way home; I picked up one (I got the other one later) - great carrier for my bulbs.

So, a Park Avenue-residing Upper East Side lady might get some dirt on her arm digging up tulip bulbs, but I don't think she'd be picking up plastic crates discarded on the sidewalk to take home with her.  An Upper Far East Sider, though, well, we're a different breed.

On the way home, I passed by Third, and it was clear vendors were setting up for a street fair - the beginning of New York City street fair season!  I love them, other than when I am trying to get through traffic and one is in my way.  So my dig gained me some valuable intell on neighborhood happenings, which I shared with Sissy - I knew she'd be my partner in crime on that one.  She may love them even more than I.





Home to the terrace.


 

 



I called Marmy to ask her whether she would want to come in to dig.  Too far, she said.  But I don't know whether I will have the time or energy to go back and dig for her.  I think I may have hit my limit at the roughly 15 that I dug - color completely unknown; I'll just have to be surprised.  (Ah - after a bit of research, the Fund for Park Avenue reports that they are yellow.  Thanks, Fund for Park Avenue! And thanks to This Week at the Market for sharing the information!  Will need to set a reminder for this next year....)  But, truly, what a waste if they are not all dug up.  I might try again toward the end of the week - there won't be so many people digging on Memorial Day weekend.  It might end before then.  Maybe for Marmy, maybe for some of the unplanted medians on First Avenue - the one down my street does not seem to be intentionally planted.  Someone put in maybe one or two - it needs more, definitely.

We shall see....