Wednesday, March 26, 2014
This is a community garden on our block in Harlem. It has been padlocked since we moved here.
I don't know.
But taking this on may take more gees (Afrikaans for spirit - the 'g' is more a hiss than guttural) than I am willing to muster. If we were in residence longer, maybe. I imagine there is a complicated back story, and that unpicking it and dealing with all the loose ends and sewing it together again would take powers of diplomacy envied by the UN.
I considered some guerilla gardening. I had visions of sneaking beautiful purple runner beans into the soil so that they can snake up the wrought iron fence (expensive! - someone campaigned for that; then what happened?). But there is chicken wire at its base - to keep out cats, I am guessing. So my hands can't reach. Wire cutters? Serious gloves?
But there it is. A sad sight, and provocative to one who gardens. There are even some raised beds. That cherry tree will bloom in about six weeks. Meantime, garbage accumulates.
Still. Maybe I'll make a phone call or two, and ask around. I'm curious.