accidental garden

Trees do grow in Manhattan. Plenty of them. We are blessed with one in front of Chez Mitchell and, as it is the closest thing we have to either a porch or a "green space", we try to be grateful. Last summer, I spent many mornings on the sofa in front of the living room window watching four blue jays chase each other back and forth from the tree in front of the house to the tree across the street. They would call, dodge, weave and antagonize each other in such a way that I knew they must be siblings.


When I was pregnant with Colton, we went through a phase where we spent our mornings with AJ in the playroom on the 3rd Floor. As I was huge and incredibly uncomfortable during that spring, Leighton would schlep breakfast up and down the stairs while AJ and I watched DVDs. All through that season I watched the tree (the top of which is near the playroom window) emerge from its winter nakedness into buds, blooms, and then full spring leaf. Through the frame of the window and up that close, the transformation was astonishing and somehow deeply personal as I was surely the only one observing so closely, on a daily basis, the reemergence of this tree from it's winter shroud. (Please keep in mind this all romanticized through the lens of pregnancy hormones).

There is, however, a problem with being the caretaker of tree in New York City. The base of the tree creates a conundrum for property owners as it is an enormous trip hazard and easily becomes an unsightly mess, resulting in tickets from the Department of Sanitation. Several years ago, in an effort to combat these issues, Leighton designed and built a planter box that fits just inside the 5x5 square hole in the sidewalk that is the tree's home. He also welded up an incredibly substantial, low fence to go around the tree. The unforeseen problems with this contraption (which we unaffectionately call "the tree thing") were many. The height of the fence is ideal for skater tricks and perching loiterers (ie: drunk couples fighting at 4am). The planter box attracts many an uncurbed dog and perhaps even more garbage than before. Craig and Leighton have cooked up many schemes to prevent bikers from chaining to it (our bikes are all stored in the house, meanwhile, it's a veritable parking lot outside--this is particularly a pain in the ass when the boys are outside playing on the sidewalk and a bike gets bumped and attacks one of the kids).

We have previously planted the box with little to no success. Then came the rains of 2009. Back in the spring Auden, Jes, and Leighton planted some impatiens and marigolds in "the tree thing". For fun, they dropped some seeds as well. Leighton was a nay-sayer about the seeds, convinced the birds would eat them. I just figured the whole thing would shrivel up due to neglect and digging chihuauas.

But Mother Nature has been a soggy lady this year. As a result, the plants took hold and the impatiens have nearly overtaken the marigolds. Then, over the course of a month or so, slowly, slowly, the seeds began to put up shoots. The rains kept coming and those little guys kept pushing up and one morning the first zinnia popped. Then another, and another. And then Jes spotted the sunflower--and we suddenly found ourselves in the throes of full-fledged botanical drama. A sunflower on 10th Street and 1st Avenue! Could it be? But the little bugger was tenacious, and open she did. The flower is very small--not quite the diameter of a tennis ball, but she turns to salute the sun every morning and AJ is so, so proud.

I don't know what will happen when the rains stop or the season turns. It will be so terribly sad to watch our little oasis return to the earth, but I suspect that's what will eventually happen. I potted my CSA herbs in the kitchen window this year and they aren't looking so good. Both my parents have green thumbs, but it's never been my thing--and not for lack of wanting. I dream of a garden, of a porch covered in staghorn and fern, of bird feeders and blackberry vines, and flowers named for beautiful women. But, I live in Manhattan and I have a washer and dryer. I have great public schools and a huge park in a 5-block radius. I have a sub-basement and a bidet. A girl can only have so many blessings at one time. So, for now, I forgo a hammock and a strawberry pot and imagine it leaves me something to look forward to in a later chapter.

For this summer, we have the flowers in "the tree thing" and the possibilities of next year.