October Gardens (2020)

October transitions in the garden - some plants fade toward dormancy or demise, others defy with a last burst of life and growth.

At the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, a new planted slope is apparently only now coming into its own, revealing its unreined autumnal splendor, after taking last Winter and the COVID seasons away from the crowds to establish itself - something new to look forward to when it's safe to visit again.

In the beds of the Esplanade by the East River, while just about every other plant is past prime, the goldenrod stands out, still blazing amber - for whatever butterflies might still pass through en route south to escape our coming cold.

And in the Jardin, the once green foliage of the blueberry bushes have gone fiery red, their last glory before going bald and dormant.

Meanwhile, the tomato plants are nurturing the last of their offspring, draining from the few remaining leaves the last of their energy in support of the ripening fruits.  A handful of late sweet treats awaiting harvesting.

But the sugar snap peas - the ones from the summer that sat in the fridge so long that they started to go bad and began to sprout - they actually grew!  And they are flowering!  And they have begat pods!  New life, even in the season of winding down.  Less vigorous, maybe, than they would be in Spring, but not bad for a Fall crop grasping at the dwindling light, shoved into the last corner of the terrace that still gets what few direct rays manage to make it from the now low-hanging sun over the top of the building.  Dreaming ahead to how well they might do come Spring if they get the benefit of lengthening days rather than shortening ones, warming soils rather than cooling planters.  They should come up before the tomatoes, so maybe they can climb the tomato cages so that the trellis now supporting them can get a trumpet vine.

The Jardin might be drawing to a close during this last week of October, but there is still just enough activity to seed hope for the Spring.

"You Can Wait for Permission, or Just Ask for Forgiveness"

Guerrilla Gardening as a form of rebellious self help in a New York City housing project, and a case for cutting the red tape on gardening.

Across the river, in a pretty different part of town from Yorkville, echoes of my recent activities - a similar strategy for coping and building community in the Queensbridge Houses via a guerrilla garden.

(Though, actually, the parts of town aren't so very different; there is a housing project at the northern edge of Yorkville, near Asphalt Green, the rather expensive fitness complex - quite the juxtaposition.)

The frustrating red tape encountered by this man in setting up his garden at the Queensbridge Houses - seems it should just be easier to plant unused and under utilized plantable space.  In the midst of a pandemic, when gardening and connectedness to nature is so important for mental health, just make it easier for folks!!

Ok, I am a lawyer, I get it.  Owners and controllers want to keep control - they don't want to be open to adverse possession claims down the road.  (I have always been bothered by empty construction lots and pits that sit forever awaiting - what? financing? an uptick in the market? - that could host a garden, even if only temporarily.  Empty road medians too, or areas near on and off ramps.  When I was in high school, commuting by bus to get to the subway, we would pass by an empty grassy area where the Clearview terminates on Hillside, and I would fantasize about throwing dianthus seeds there and one day commuting past a field of flowers.  When I was in college, living in a dorm that looked over Morningside Park onto the occasional empty lot between low rises in Harlem, I had versions of that same fantasy - sprinkling seeds, but then pairing it with outreach to local schools to reinforce students' science curricula.  I never did anything about that, and sometimes still wish I had.)  And liability - I get it - what if there are heavy metals in that soil and that woman with the baby cilantro actually eats her cilantro.  Fine - make folks sign waivers, test the soil and prohibit edibles if warranted until remediation can occur.  Put up signs.  Make every participant renew their agreement to the terms and conditions of use on an annual basis if you must...

... But just let the people plant.  It's good for the soul.  And good for children's brain growth, physical growth.  And good for the community. 

Haunted by the grouchy woman's admonishments and wanting to be prepared with a response should I encounter that again, I attempted to look up the legality of guerrilla gardening empty sidewalk tree pits - and did not get through the voluminous materials, the red tape.  The best I could tell from a quick skim of the tree standards, there are particular species of trees that are approved, but it's unclear whether that is simply best practice or policy to be applied IF the City actually fulfills its mission to plant said trees, or if by inference there is a prohibition of any other plantings...  Now, looking further, apparently a permit is required to plant a tree - oh well, so I suppose that is the City's exercise of jurisdiction over all of the sidewalk tree pits; so it appears Grouchy Karen Tree Hater may have technically been correct on the legalities.  But, really, SHOULD it be, even if the City is in dereliction of its planting mandate?

In the latter case, I say (biasedly), let the people plant!  Something green is better than nothing green.  Free plants and labor to put them in is better than forlorn patches of dirt.  And with tax revenues bound to be way down with this prolonged pandemic, it could be years until the City has the resources to plant trees again.  I don't want to live like that; I don't want my neighborhood to look like that.  What harm could come if in theory Mother Nature might have adversely possessed these mini-plots and taken over the process anyway?  If any plant can actually survive amid such compaction, let alone grow large enough or deep enough to cause actual harm to - say, the sidewalks, then, I say, the burden shifts to the City and to neighbors to remove the offending flora.  Which leads me back to... Yes - a call to take up the hand shovels!!  Let the people plant!  Plant on, and ask for forgiveness later.  

We undertake the risk of heartache if it all gets yanked out at some point; we are gardeners - we already know that even if we pour all of our love into a plant, it might not thrive, or even survive, for us.  We are fortified and can endure death and destruction, in spite of care.  What we can endure less is barrenness, sadness, emptiness due to neglect and an unwillingness to try to nurture life.

Triumph of Civil Society

The triumph of tree huggers of the world over tree haters of the world - in this little Yorkvillean corner of the world, anyway.

Mystery seedling - a volunteer in one of the planters.  Evicted, but I am a softie landlord - not without a substitute home.

A revision of yesterday's tally is called for - a wholly different tally, actually.  Tree Huggers - 10+; Tree Haters - 1.  The empirical evidence was momentarily drowned out by yesterday's shrieking Karen, but the fact is Yorkville tree huggers outnumber Yorkville tree haters by a wide margin.  And that is so reassuring. 

I set out to try again today to find more loving homes for the mystery seedlings. I found some spaces on 83rd closer to York. And there I met my neighbor who had taken it upon himself to plant the bed in the ramp/stairs leading to the Esplanade at 82nd. 

Work of a fellow guerrilla gardener at 82nd Street entrance to the Esplanade.

I had thought the City had landscaped that, but no - he just got tired of passing by an empty planting bed each time and decided to plant it, to add the flowers and foliage that I have passed by and admired and enjoyed often.  A kindred spirit picking up where the City falls short. And the super of the buildings encouraged me and promised to water.

And checking back on the hibiscus fraternal twins, a mystery neighbor had added protective brick rings to bolster my loose circle of stem cuttings at the base. Sleeper cell guerrilla gardeners.

Kindness of strangers - sleeper cell guerrilla gardeners - who provided the protective brick rings.

Over the two days, at least ten supportive neighbors - some who offered to come by and water, who offered thanks, encouraging words.  So the tree huggers prevail over the tree haters here in Yorkville!  As it should be.  Order restored to the universe.

Tree Hugger - 2; Tree Hater - 0

The puzzling phenomenon of an individual who would rather stare at an empty, neglected sidewalk tree pit than root for a tree.

Latest dispatch in the annals of guerrilla gardening the barren, neglected sidewalk tree pits of my neighborhood. I had two extra hardy hibiscuses in need of moving out of the crowded planter and two mystery volunteer seedlings (possibly mulberries, but unclear) that needed to be mercifully evicted.  

One of the hibiscuses was a seedling dug from near the hedge at the Mother Garden in Queens.  The other was grown from seeds collected last year from a multi-petal pink hibiscus in Carl Schurz Park.  They were among the four in the planter - more than could possibly thrive into maturity; I just didn’t know how many would survive.

So the hibiscus fraternal twins went into #YorkvilleUESTreePit454E84, where I put in a tiny maple seedling in the Spring that did not make it.  All was fine, the usual.  Several people stopped to chat, to thank me, to offer help ... it’s lovely, really, and I have come to look forward to those chance connections to my neighbors.

Then, off, with dusk apgproaching, to find homes for the mystery seedlings.  I passed by some candidates that looked like someone might actually care about them - in front of buildings that looked tended to, with folks who might actually want to have a say in their tree pits.  And then stopped in front of 401 East 83rd, before a laundry, in a small walkup, a sidewalk dirt patch that seemed abandoned with low likelihood of future greening.  As I was digging the hole, a woman appeared, and began to berate me; she demanded to know what I was doing, insisted that I stop, that planting the barren space was illegal, said she would remove it if I did not, and even threatened to call the cops on me!  I was stunned. All I could manage was to ask why she hated trees so much, and why she would prefer to look at an empty patch of dirt than one supporting greenery.  Anyway, since she said she lived in the building and would yank out the seedling, there was no point in continuing.

I was so taken aback by the confrontation that it was only right afterward that I realized she was MASKLESS - figures an anti-masker would also be a tree hater; they often go hand in hand. Just a mean and grouchy woman - of the same ilk as the destroyer of the birdhouses on 81st Street.

As Sissy labeled her later, a Karen if there ever was one.

I wish my brain were one of those that could come up with snappy retorts in the moment - responded sarcastically that I could see what concern she has for the community, depriving them of trees and health...  Instead, discouraged, and with full dusk having set in, I went home.  

So the day's tally: two hibiscuses in for the tree huggers, zero for the tree hater (and her neighbors at 401 East 83rd, who will have to suffer her and her imposition upon them of her masklessness and tree aversion).

If At First You Don’t Succeed...

New planting to fill the void left by the death of the maple that I guerrilla planted back in May in the sidewalk tree pit under Jane's window.

Early this week, before the heavy rain, the surprise (! not the pink I was expecting from the seed, but, instead, a...) white hibiscus was settled into its new home in #YorkvilleUESTreePit530E81 beneath Jane’s window (remember apartment-bound Jane from the Summer who offered water by lowering her tote bag from her window?  She came again to her window while I was planting this time too, to thank me.). I hope this will give her something nicer to gaze upon than the rectangle of empty dirt where the maple I planted in Spring died for lack of water over the hot Summer.  The maple went in right before a spell when I wasn't getting out much, and it was literally the first seedling I planted in the tree pits... the hole may have been too small, there were no soil amendments, and then on top of that no water, exposure to every dog walking by....  Poor thing barely stood a chance, even if it was the biggest of the seedlings.  Ah well.  Lessons ... and try, try again.

[The white hibiscus was the most established of the ones growing in the planter, the largest, and had been in the center.  I had thought it was one from the Mother Ship and had planned to keep it as a symbolic link and because pink blooms would have matched my profile photo.  It was easier to give up to Jane when I discovered those sentimental attributions were misplaced.  But it was quite settled in.  Only turning the planter on its side helped.  The rescued plastic sled is most useful as an oversized makeshift potting tray for situations like this.]

This white hibiscus came from seeds I collected from Carl Schurz Park and planted in a container last Fall - so a freebie, just needing a bit of labor and care.  After the maple died, I had in mind to transplant the hibiscus, but decided to keep custody so I could water it over the Summer until around now, with the cooling temperatures, so it still has time to establish before harsh Winter. 

[The skinny bulb digging tool - I think that's what it was designed for, anyway - definitely made the digging easier than using the hand shovels alone.]

I should be able to be more vigilant this time around with watering, and the doorman of the building offered water as I was planting, so hopefully he will take it upon himself every now and then to help too.  And the porter, who was a little grumpy about my decorative arrangement of stems at the base (I thought they looked cute; he said the Sanitation police would look for any reason to ticket the building; I disagreed - it certainly looked no worse than the neglected tree pit left on HIS watch, so I suspect it was more a control issue - in any event, I removed them), nonetheless had a hose - he might be more willing to use it now that this plant has flowers.  Flowers seemed to be what he was hoping for when I was there burying seeds over the Summer, but none came up.  And Mother Nature hopefully will bring Autumn rains.  I also added compost to the pit this time, and amended with stem cuttings generously provided, again, by Sikking Flowers, so fingers crossed for survival this time around.

[I thought the decorative ring of cut sunflower stems at the base were cute and the dirt berm would help to pool water.  The porter didn't like these.  The stems I removed right off.  On walk-bys in the days after, the berm is gone - a victim, I suspect, of the porter's house.  Oh well.  As long as he gives the pit some water.]

With some luck, the white hibiscus will make it to 2021 and bloom again for Jane next year.  Hopefully it will get enough sun - the tree pit is on the south side of the street, so then the buildings cast their shadows northward at the height of day, but it seems this spot should get some morning sun.  The plant should live - whether it will be enough to blossom is another story.  Time will tell.

[The decorative sunflower stalks were gone by the time this photo was taken.  The tiny little dug up spots are where I buried pumpkin seeds that I discovered among the compost sprinkled into the hole I dug.  I don't know whether the seeds were even viable, and some looked already sprouted.  We shall see... having the verdant sprouts just to liven up the pot would not be a bad thing at all.  No eating of the sprouts, though - too many dogs out and about.]

Here's hoping our efforts now - plant wise, get out the vote-wise, otherwise - yield a better 2021 for us and all of our neighbors.

[A mature bud fell off as the white hibiscus was being dislodged from the planter.  I stuck it back into the soil, because why not? It seems to be blooming, then closing, in the days since - I didn't think that would be possible without roots and stem; maybe just the moisture being absorbed through the base of the bud is enough?]