Lap of Luxury

Outdoor space as necessary amenity in New York City luxury residences.

Between being, befuddlingly, slightly ahead of the curve on residential trends and the happenstance of a global pandemic and the new found general appreciation for stretching room, somehow I have managed to be the owner of an apartment with a highly sought after requirement in luxury abodes - the outdoor space - at precisely the moment when it is most prized.  Very lucky me.  

It all began with that New York City rite of passage - the real estate upsell.  Fresh out of law school and with limited time to find an apartment, Sissy and I had turned to a broker after dead ends looking through listings on our own.  We had a budget.  We saw holes in walls.  Then the broker said there was a listing right above our budget; "no," we said; "it's on the way to the next one," he said.  So we went, and, of course, it blew everything else out of the water.  It was a duplex - so the volume just felt expansive, even if the footprint was not necessarily larger.  And it had a little terrace off the second floor - large enough for a cafe table and four chairs, with an umbrella, and planters at the edges.  I couldn't believe that we, ordinary girls, could afford that in New York City - though we had to stretch a bit.

And so, when it was time to hunt for a place, I had to have outdoor space - I needed my plants, my space to stretch and unwind and not feel confined.  I was willing to venture to the "far east" for more affordable apartments in order to get it.  Back in those days, before the Q, we were OUT there.  But we knew right away when we saw it - the terrace was exactly what I wanted.  Truth be told, I might have considered exposures better, but, well - it felt too good to pass up.  And it has been far more positive than not.

I suppose sometimes it actually works to follow your passion - the plants, the respite - and let the finances work themselves out from there.  When I refinanced last year, the appraiser put a higher than expected premium on the terrace.  So, patience, and luck - until it falls out of fashion.  And then I still will have my little Jardin to console me.  No idea what the owner of those luxury units who don't do their own gardening (who in the world would want a space that comes pre-planted??!!) do with their outdoor spaces when the day comes when having one is more hindrance than benefit.  I guess their unit prices fall, making room for the diehard and passionate gardeners to move in and green the terraces and balconies.

[Edited October 31, 2021.]

Eagles, Beavers, and Sea Turtles - Oh My!

The return of some non-human native New Yorkers.

My most vivid Nat Geo moment in this crazy metropolis of ours unfolded some years ago when I stopped mid-run at dusk in Carl Schurz Park to watch a huge bird, clearly a raptor (probably a red tailed hawk), perched in a tree, and then, at the base of the branch on which it was resting, some sort of movement.  It flapped its wings and flew off, and in the waning light, the shadowy silhouettes made it all clear - a wriggling rodent grasped in its talons ... the original New York City takeout order.

Since then, I've seen our large feathered friend again (or its relations) in the park (that photo above), as have others.

And they aren't the only non-humans coming back to city life.  The City has been trying to clean up for decades - about as long as I've been here - and the seeds planted and nurtured are bearing fruit, and the creatures are coming back to partake!

My love of this city runs deep, but all of the cold hard concrete and sterile steel can just leave us sentient beings feeling bereft of that natural life force.  The urban jungle can be a harsh place, but the jungle also provides refuge.  And I have always believed there is the possibility, the necessity, of balance, of cohabitation, of nature existing with the structures and things we humans need for a comfortable existence.  We just have to be more thoughtful about designing and going about our journey of coexistence.  Not a zero sum game - there's room for all of us.

[Edited October 29, 2021.]

Accepting Autumn: Surrendering to Mother Nature

Honey bee hospice care.

I saw this little guy earlier this week - on a paver, which in and of itself is unusual, of course. Buzzing about, flitting from bloom to bloom is what we like to see.

He seemed almost drunk, stumbling on the ground - but there were no pollen sacks. He seemed to be dragging a leg, or limping. And then he would somehow lose balance and land on his back, legs flailing in the air.

So I thought I should help him out and flip him over with the stem of a fallen leaf. This happened a few times before I even started to record the footage here.  Something seemed off.

And so after the footage, it seemed my aid was just prolonging something inevitable. I righted him, and then walked away to take care of other gardening tasks.

And when I came back a bit later, he was on his back, and still. I scooped him up with the leaf and deposited him into a planter to return to the earth.

Sobering to bear witness to another being letting go of life. There is a solemnity about it, to surrendering to Mother Nature - but a peace. And Autumn is full of those little moments.

[Contrast to the excruciating guilt of carrying out the mandate to kill any spotted lanternflies I might see. My count is up to 7. It still feels awful. And awful to realize that my method for getting the job done has become somewhat routinized. It goes against every instinct I have. All of their little corpses are under a large rock in the planter with the maple trio.😔]

[Edited October 28, 2021.]

Accepting Autumn: Fall Flora+ Fashions.

Autumn flowers, foliage, and more.

Some of the plants in the Jardin have started to change and acquire their autumnal looks.

The mop head hydrangea that was once white with hints of lime has gone pink….

…The lilac leaves have gone toward a yellow rimmed burgundy….

… The green shiso has become pale yellow; the purple shiso a faded pink….

…The ring hydrangea leaves have also picked up a burgundy shade….

…While the blueberry ones have cast themselves in a bright red with orange undertones.

And across the way, at the right time of day, one of the buildings nearby is bedazzled in sequin-reminiscent light reflections, portending the showers of falling leaves in the days to come.

Stealing time this past weekend to absorb the seasonal changes.

Accepting Autumn: Sun Salutation - Adieu

Letting go of Summer as Autumn's shadows creep in.

Autumn on the terrace means longer shadows, a very discernible loss of sunlight. Par for the course with a north-facing outdoor space, but not really any less gloom inducing, despite being able to articulate the scientific reasons and appreciate that it is but one temporary part of the larger cycle of things.

Where at the height of summer and solar angle, there was almost unbearable brightness and heat along a good part of the length of the north parapet (interrupted by the shadow of the building’s chiller unit), nowadays there is a limited period of direct light, and only in the northeast corner.

In past years I kept everything where it was. But with all the plants still in flux from earlier this year with the building’s terrace membrane replacement, it felt easier to shift things around… the bench on the east parapet of the Main Terrace moved to the north shadowy parapet, making room for sun lovers; hopefully the bit of extra sun gives them a boost for next year. But the junipers and hydrangea are fending for themselves, still by the northern parapet, in the shadows (together with some volunteer tomatoes that sprang up in a hydrangea planter - we’ll see how those fare, still green at the moment). 

The mandevillas that were stuck inside all year begunning during the construction are out enjoying some unfiltered light at last - better late than never. 

The blueberry (sharing space with shiso, clown violets, beets - only the last planting planned) is in a limited sunny corner of the South Wraparound, not yet elevated to optimize light catching - on the never-ending To Do list. 

And then there’s the interior perpetually dark corner (ever since a certain private girls’ school constructed a taller than expected building that cut off my view and the morning light) of the North Wraparound - home to a hydrangea that still seems to flower, beets (started in sun on the roof), Malabar spinach, cardinal vine. I will need to experiment and see what else can tolerate those conditions - hoping for peas, but that may be a pipe pea dream.

Self Care

"There is no such thing as too much ice cream."

Acts of self-preservation amid the chaos.

These past few weeks have been rough at work, and the feeling of hitting the end of each day without even starting that day’s To Do list because of all of the unanticipated fires is just draining. Having others take their stress out in my direction because they are experiencing similar is no fun either.

And so amid all of that, this past weekend’s self care in the form of a day excursion with one of my most enduring, dearest friends - an outing long-planned before Congress started throwing monkey wrenches at the tax code - was potentially in jeopardy.  She flew into Long Island, and with juggling, lots of juggling, keeping that commitment and taking an afternoon off to wander through a designer show house and furniture stores out East (even if there were intermittent interruptions from work calls and emails), getting a pedicure while waiting for a dinner reservation, having some fantastic food prepared at Blu Mar in Southampton with fun company, was just enough of the prescription to keep insanity at bay.

It was only an afternoon, after all.  Then a bit of a morning with the parentals, before heading back to the city to try to keep a lid on things, was the next part of the balancing act.  Though choosing to have a meal out with Sissy upon returning, and finally, finally, getting to try neighborhood spots Gray Hawk Grill and Anita Gelato, both of which opened during the pandemic - it all felt almost like normal times again.

Balancing all of that with tackling deferred gardening tasks and side gig work, and all the decadent eating out with some relatively healthy cooking in - refining the chickpea pancake into an improved chickpea crepe, utilizing the still abundant (even in early Autumn!) fresh harvested squash blossoms and kitchen scrap scallions - felt like an accomplishment to make up for all the things not yet done at work.  Discovering I have gotten back to my 2001 weight (give or take a couple of pounds) - without any real effort, other than, you know, surviving a global pandemic - was a morale bonus, too.

Balance of time.  Balance of food.  Balance of efforts and energy.  Different perspective.  Much needed recentering - like a chiropractic adjustment (so I've heard; no experience firsthand).  Truly overdue self care.  But then it becomes a craving - why can't I have it more often, or all the time?