the tale of a tulip
May 1, 2006 6:24 pm5/1/06
baby grass update
6:08 pmNothing quite as exciting as watching grass grow, is there?
It’s coming along, though.
5/1/06
Fire in the Fens
April 29, 2006 8:25 am
Note: this post has some adult-type themes.
Finally repaired my fence yesterday. It was a pretty labor-intensive little task–I had to dig a new post hole, and then attach fencing. I still have kind of a lousy gate, which I’ve got to do something about, but the fence problem’s been around since last summer, when someone basically pushed one of my posts over to get into my garden for an amorous liaison.
Speaking of. There was another fire in the phragmites while I was working in my garden. Phragmites is the tall “grass” that grows on the edge of the Muddy River. It’s an invasive species and very hard to control. There are “controlled burnings” on occasion, and then there are the, er, uncontrolled burnings, like yesterday. Sometimes it’s people hanging out there, smoking cigarettes—especially when it’s as dry as it has been, and sometimes it’s somebody who sets a fire on purpose, for whatever reason.
Love it or hate it, the phragmites is probably the most popular place in the park. It can get to be ten-twelve feet high, and there are lots of little nooks and crannies where people can meet. And where that’s the case, there’s lots of drugs and sex. Care for some crystal and a blowjob? This is the place!
And this goes on 24-7 this time of year. You’ll always see people milling around down by the Muddy River. Men, of course. It’s a guy thing. And at night, the Fens becomes a different place entirely, and the gardens provide a perfect setting for lovers–or, if not lovers, exactly, at least suckers, blowers, lickers, and fuckers.
Most gardeners in the Fens know what they’re in for. Like I said, most employ some minimal deterrent, like climbing roses—I also planted a couple of those along my new fence yesterday. But the truth is, nothing’s fool-proof, and you can’t obsess over nocturnal garden invasions. It’s gonna happen. All you can hope for is that they’ll be gentle.
4/29/06
life in the neighborhood
April 27, 2006 10:46 amI spoke too soon, as for my baby grass. The rain really did give it that extra oof: Here’s a shot with the macro lens:
The magnolia has shed most of its blooms, but still people are streaming through row E to see it. There was a young jogger when I was in my garden yesterday, who came by once on his way to class and then again on his way back. He ran down the row, stood there in front of the magnolia, just looking, and then turned around and ran off in the direction he came. It’s interesting that merely looking at something can give us such pleasure (an interesting discussion of this can be found in the always insightful Elaine Scarry’s On Beauty and Being Just–which, if you’d like to buy it, feel free to go here and use my amazon link at right, or not–also the brilliant and big-hearted John Berger’s seminal Ways of Seeing is a must-read).
Anyway, here’s what’s next for the magnolia, in case you were curious:
I also wanted to post some pics of my neighbors’ plots. They are more mature than mine, and I’m getting all sorts of inspirations for mine from them. I told Eddy, whose plot is the bottom one below, that I was getting ideas for next spring from Daphne, whose gorgeous garden is the one in the center here, and he said: “I hate that! Everything with gardeners is about next year!”
I don’t know if I agree with him. I’ve got a lot to think about yet this year, but I definitely want to make a mental note about what to plant where this autumn, so that next spring I’ll have some early blooms in my garden. I mean, to keep it blooming from spring to autumn is the idea, innit?
Daphne was more philosophical. When I ran into her yesterday, she gave me some tips about planting lilies next to daffodils that she said she’d just picked up herself. She said that that was the thing she loved about gardening, that there was always something new to learn, something new to try, even if it’s too late to try it this year.
4/27/06
a little rain wouldn’t hurt, but a lot would be better
April 26, 2006 12:38 pmWell, things got a little wet these last couple of days, but not nearly wet enough. At least not here in Boston. I’m not having much luck growing my grass, as much as I have been sending those super gamma rays into the earth trying to get it going.
Here’s another view of the garden taken recently, looking southeast:
You know, all you need is a good, steady, sustained shower, over night, even, and you see everything POP. There’s nothing like rain. I mean, I get over there and water it, but it’s not like a good rain.
4/26/06
The Garden Gate
April 22, 2006 10:21 am
One of the interesting challenges of public gardening, particulalry in a high-traffic multi-use urban environment like the Fenway, is security. You probably don’t think about this when you’re walking through the gardens, but it’s definitely an issue for the gardeners.
Vandalism is a concern for anyone who gardens in the city. In the Fenway you can count on your garden being trashed at least once a summer. Which is unfortunate. It may be an eternal truth that every positive notion, urge, or action has its equal and opposite. It seems so, at least. Whatever constructive urges we humans have are at least matched, if not surpassed by the urge we have to destroy things.
I don’t think there’s much to be done about it, to tell you thed truth, because, like it or not, that destructive urge is fundamental to our progress as a species. But the problem is, the urge to destroy is not always married to that urge to rebuild. Sometimes it’s just the urge to destroy, period. And it’s up to someone else to rebuild.
Lucky for everyone, gardeners are used to rearranging, shaking things up and rising to the challenges nature and man throw in their path. That’s such a basic part of what gardening is, that wehen your garden gets trashed, you stand around stunned, scratching your head for a while, and then get back down to work.
Which is not to say that anyone wants to have their garden trashed. But it happens. It’s hard to understand in a rational way. But I suspect those responsible are generally under the influence of something–in the Fens it could be anything from crack to crystal. Not that that makes it less wrong, but somehow it’s more understandable.
Because razorwire is forbidden, and the fences are usually pretty easy to hop, most gardeners try to safeguard the fruits of their labor by planting thorny climbing plants along their fences. I’m off to pick up a couple of climbing rose bushes later this afternoon, which will be the extent of my security measures. The trick is not to make it look like you’re barricading yourself in. You want a natural barrier that whispers: “look, but don’t touch,” rather than screams: “Stay the hell out!”
4/22/06
Ravaged
April 21, 2006 10:48 am
4/22/06
what you see on your knees
April 20, 2006 10:04 am
Now, see, here’s what I’m talking about. Gardeners have great faith, but it’s not for nothing. Yes, you’ve got to believe, there’s no doubt. But gardeners are also big on proof. And here it is.
I mean, you look at the snapshot, above, of my garden (roughly the Northeast corner of it, at least), taken yesterday, and, like I said, it appears, to unschooled eyes to be, well, mostly a dirtpit. But gardeners spend a good deal of time, like all the faithful, on their knees, where they see what the naked eye doesn’t see.
Par exemple:
I took these shots yesterday, too. You’ve got your bleeding heart there at the top. And a peony next. The purple flowers are flox, and they’re actually quite small. Then a forget-me-not. And some rhododendron buds. And finally a tulip.
You can see it’s not a chichi exotic affair, just your ordinary garden-variety garden. Still as gorgeous now up close as I have faith it will be from a distance in the not-too-distant future.
4/20/06
Ultra Gamma Grow Rays
April 19, 2006 12:02 pm
Well, there has been a lot of activity in the garden this past week.
They turned on the water in the Fens Monday, which will make things much easier. I sowed some grass seed the other day, before we had water, in the hopes that all those cries of rain all weekend would result in at least a drop or two, but we got nothin’. Nada.
And then, you know, the thing about birds–I got nothing against them, mind you–but you have to admit, they’re greedy. You toss out that grass seed and ten minutes later there are about a hundred and fifty of them feasting it. Do they visit when there’s no grass seed to gorge themselves on? No. It’s just rude, is what it is.
I took the picture above of one of the magnolia blossoms on this fabulous tree in the garden next to mine. When I was in the garden last weekend, which is when it really started to pop, literally hundreds of people filed through to see it over the course of the day.
They would look at my neighbor Rob’s garden, where the magnolia is, and just marvel at how lovely the whole thing is, and then they would stroll down the lane to mine and look pityingly at me in my dirt-pit, and walk on without a word.
Well, I’m used to it. It’s a little like Richard Dreyfuss in Close Encounters, when he’s freaking out, making that model of Devil’s Tower, and nobody but him knows what’s going on. That’s how I feel sometimes. My friends are cool. They drop by, and they’re like, “um, yeah, I can, um, see it, heh heh.” But I can sort of tell they can’t quite see it like I can see it right now–I mean, I see it. But come back in July and you’ll see it, too.
That’s the funny thing right now. You go to your garden and you see fellow gardeners in theirs, and they’re just standing there for the longest time, staring at it. A lot of it is just sending your “grow rays” out. But I’m afraid it’s a little like the old watched pot.
But it’s coming along…
In Bloom
April 18, 2006 9:20 am
