Reintroduction

Ephraim The Maple and his new treepit mates.

Sometimes, Mother Nature's creations are presented and named before their true selves are known and knowable, and then they are renamed and presented anew.

With love, I re-present to the world Ephraim T. Maple - he needed a middle name, and The is as good as any other (borrowing from the tradition of the clever creators of my favorite frog, Kermit).  

I read that, and it echoes items I have seen of parents reintroducing their at-birth misgendered children, reintroducing them in their teens as their true selves - such a loving approach.  We have come a long way as a society, though much longer to go.  Conversations are a start.  Difficult, contentious conversations ... with Papa Rooster, for one.  He doesn't get it - yet.  He is having trouble understanding how little John-John from next door now has breasts and presents as female.  We have not been introduced to whom I presume to be a her yet; we do not know her name - but I have advised the parentals to listen for it.  Mama Hen gets it.  Hard to know if she is simply more open minded, which I think she is, or if the difference in their ages accounts for the absorption of the concept.  Or maybe mothers are more accepting?  Not always, though - that's too much of a generalization.  But Mother Hen IS more accepting than Papa Rooster; she passed on her nurturing ways towards living things to me.  Though she slaughters plants that I beg to save - the latest batch rehomed to join E.T.Maple.

Yes, I mother plants - I accept and own my quirks; so, yes, I anthropomorphize them too, and bestowing names comes with that territory.

Giving my guerrilla gardens hashtags also comes with the territory.  E.T.Maple's is #YorkvilleUESTreepit507E81, and I finally made a little label so his other caretakers can follow along, and maybe identify themselves, and communicate and coordinate!  Or not - we shall see; it's an interesting experiment.  I met some more of his supporters - it just seems if people follow pet accounts, they might also follow hashtags for the trees that make them happy, and several of my neighbors have shared that E.T.Maple's survival through an exceedingly rough, COVIDy 2020 did just that 😊.  The latest supporter was the lovely young woman who emerged from her building by the tree pit and stopped by to chat and said she had contributed the three river rocks at his base, all the way from Oneonta!

The Before

The tree pit's new little informational label.  Right - a graphic designer I am not; I was far too optimistic about the width of that wooden post.  Perhaps I should add his name.

So yesterday E.T.Maple got new pitmates, evictees from the Mother Garden.  There are four main clumps of sedum in the corners that will flower come Fall.  There are also four pairings of some sort of pale pink poppy-like flower and yellow flowering plant - if they survive the intermittent scorchers of days forecasted, and my absence, over the coming week, they should flower this Summer.  Lastly, the little grape hyacinths in the circle around E.T.Maple - those already flowered this Spring in the Mother Garden, but with their little bulbs now buried and their leaves hopefully absorbing a bit more sun and energy, they may grace us next Spring.

Sedum.

Pale pink poppy-like and yellow flowering plants.

And updates to the seedlings begat from Carl Schurz Park: the mirabilises in each of the side pebble circles are still living, and at least one of the additional pre-soaked seeds that I direct-sowed last time seems to have germinated!  The cleome seedlings interspersed in the tulip circle at the front also seem to have survived and have true leaves!  They should flower late Summer.

The more robust mirabilis.  And above it - that looks like a new mirabilis seedling!

The battered mirabilis seedling - still hanging on.

Cleome seedlings with true leaves.  Above them, the Oneonta river rocks contributed by an E.T. Maple supporter.

Then new tulip bulbs that I dug out a few days ago from the Park Avenue medians supported by Fund for Park Avenue will be planted in Fall for Spring 2022.

To my neighbors: Please help water E.T. Maple and his friends when you walk by!  Thanks!

[Edited May 24, 2021.  NO More to come. Subsequently edited August 27, 2023 to close out.]

Cons of Cooperativeness

Terrace Season Cut Short - Trials and tribulations of living in a New York City cooperative apartment building.  

Barren main part of the terrace.

And just as the growing season got underway, so it came to an abrupt halt. The frustrations of living in a New York City co-op are myriad, not the least of which is having to abide by an unsympathetic board's decision to repair terrace membranes with little warning -  requiring moving every single item off the terrace - on ridiculously short notice, at one's own expense. And losing the use of one's outdoor space for four months, at the height of terrace season, just as vaccination rates have finally kicked in and the CDC has loosened restrictions and recommendations on socializing after a long pandemic.  Oh joy of joys.

The terrace has never been so empty since I have been here.  During all the other bouts of repairs, the planters and furniture were just shifted around. Not this time.

And I fought, and protested.  I wrote long emails.  I recruited my neighbors in the effort.  At the end of the day, all I got was more time and the right to hire movers of my own choosing, for half the cost of what the board's contractor would have charged.  It's not nothing, but a partial victory at best.  And still just annoying, and it took up so much time that I didn't have.  I appreciate that the work had to be done at some point, that my downstairs neighbors have been living with leaks - which is not fun either.  But episodes like this, when I feel so utterly unheard, make me reconsider living in the city; my fantasies turn toward buying a piece of dirt somewhere and living off the grid, where I can garden and kayak at will - try to survive off running an air bnb, go with the blueberry farm plan....  Sissy hit this point two years ago with the big flood, the one that went down five floors.  Living with others is just hard sometimes; communal building living, that microcosm of New York City life, can be trying - it can really feel like the urban jungle, especially without the respite of the terrace to soften the blow.  But then, it's New York - I am not quite ready to be put out to pasture in the suburbs yet.

So the mandate was for everything to come off the terrace.  The large planters and furniture have gone up to the roof.  Assorted small items are inside my apartment and the guestroom. 

But until work actually begins and they shut me in here, the little seedlings can still be put out to get some sun...

Catching the last remnants of sun.

...And, in my act of defiance, I decided the gutter garden could stay - it's not in the way of the terrace pavers or membrane. It will need to serve as my temporary garden until the rest is allowed to return from exile on the roof.

Gutter garden.

With all the busyness of the massive move, I neglected to spritz the tomato seedlings for a few days, and nearly murdered them. But they seem to be bouncing back now with water and sun - all but the smallest and weakest.

Poor, suffering tomato seedlings.

Before the forced exile went down, all of the smaller pots (a guestroom floor's worth) were driven to the Mother Garden for safekeeping. And some of the seedlings that have been indoors got transferred into the large planters to fend for themselves up in exile on the roof; after all, they will just die inside the apartment without proper sun, so might as well see if they can make it in the world on their own.  I had so much hope; the planting of seeds is an act of hope and faith.  The little first-time pepper successes got put out. 

First year of successful snacking sweet pepper seedlings.

Some of the mirabilis and cleomes were put out with the peppers.  It's like sending kids off to college and changing the locks.

Cleome babies, mirabilis babies.

Mirabilis cluster.

Mirabilis planted to fend for themselves.

Mirabilis close up.

Cleome cluster.

Cleomes - settled in.

Cleomes closeup.

Good luck and God speed!

Hope to see all the green babies thriving and well on the other side of this.