Fruit photos snapped by: The Frenchman, on his tour of duty yesterday
...on the roof farm above Henry Street...
Although every time I write "farm" I think of the recent op ed in The Times that pressed all my buttons. Even if the clever Marielle Anzelone did write it. I mean, why even talk about urban gardeners and a "craze to farmify our surroundings" (really?) in the same breath as habitat deprivation for native pollinators? The gist of the piece - habitat creation through native plantings, and how pollination works - is great, but creating \ a conflict on paper where none really exists is very distracting. Urban gardening and native planting are not mutually exclusive. Gardeners are not the problem.
Here it is.
Back to the er, farm, which, if you remember waaay back, was created as a sort of urban gardening joke. Before I fell in love with it. Here is a bumble bee (all-American) doing what it does best to blueberry flowers.
Black raspberries, below.
The cilantro (white flowers) bolted, of course. I'll leave it to set seed for a batch of boerewors.
The farm was kept alive by a simple soaker hose, turned on for twenty minutes every day by Amy and Dinah. I was sorry that neither was able to enjoy sundowners on the roof during their stay, but access to the roof can be tricky, with the lifting of the hatch and the hanging on like a lemur to the ladder.
The fava beans are full of beans, now, and some tomatoes are hanging in, but I think I'll do some cheat-planting when I get back. Last year's tomatoes are still a vividly delicious memory.