She who feeds the pigeons

Spring is arriving, and here I am, clearing my camera's memory stick and filing photos that began in February. 

As I walked out of Prospect Park one dark afternoon, I noticed, in the failing winter light, a flurry of pigeon activity at Grand Army Plaza. They flocked around a woman in blue, who was feeding them. She looked down tenderly at the birds when they perched on her coated arm.

Her electric Citibike rental was provisioned with various containers of seeds, and when one was was empty she'd return to her bag in its basket for more supplies. Soon, all the seed was eaten up.

I don't like to skulk around, stealing pictures of people, so before I left I walked up gently and said, They love you! She smiled shyly, hopped back on the bike, and sped away, zipping south on Prospect Park West.

Snowfall

We've been lucky. Two snows in two weeks, with temperatures low enough for them to stick.

The lake in Prospect Park has been semi-frozen, and we wonder when we will see raccoons walking on the ice again (the last time was in February this year, a roaming pack of 12, possibly a once-in-ten-year raccoon reunion?). 

When the sun shines, it glitters.

Hawthorns hanging low. 

It's interesting that birds don't eat the fruit now. Given a choice, they mob the remaining crabapples, instead.

Unrelated, but not really: If you like almanacs, I contributed a monthly foraging column to The Other Almanac 2026. And there is a lot more in it, too. 

Find it in the usual places and from the publisher.

Who said clouds were lonely?

A host. A host, I tell you! 

The daffodils have opened in Prospect Park.

Bud break

 

Cloudy days, but on Saturday we went for a long walk in the park (Prospect Park). A milestone walk, because, at five miles, door to door, it was the longest stroll for me since early December, when I began to take some serious foot pain seriously and had to simply stop. Walking. I don't know what injured the plantar fascia muscles, but it's been a steep and then very long and dauntingly gradual learning curve and recovery process. I mean, I had to join a gym! For cardio exercise that didn't involve weight-bearing. 

Blablabla. So this walk, albeit not at my usual pace, which is fast, was a test. It seemed to go A-OK. No pain the day after. It's mending.

Plus, there were pre-spring blossoms. Prunus x subhirtella always startles everyone by flowering in early winter, and then again in very early spring (which is less alarming). It's the first cherry blossom of the year, always. The fat, frilly Kanzan's are still about six weeks away.

Cornelian cherry (Cornus mas) blossoms are about to erupt. In September their tart red fruits will be ripe.

Native spicebush  (Lindera benzoin) has fat round buds.

Hazel (species?) - the pollen-laden male catkins with the tiny red female flower above.

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Daffodil hour

The Frenchman's birthday daffodils ablaze in the early afternoon sunlight, now bright through the skylight as that medium-size star climbs higher and higher in the pre-spring sky.

These were the first daffodils I have seen sold locally, and that means we'll have them for the next couple of months. In parks and gardens, they are already in bud, but still tightly closed.

The first to turn...

...are the ash trees. Fraxinus pennsylvanica. Their yellow leaves blaze.

The New York Tree Map still seems magical, to me. Every tree on the city streets, mapped.

We'll be celebrating New York's City of Forest Day on Saturday in the forest: Central Park's North Woods. And on the 16th, in the forest at the NYBG. Book here - there are some tickets left.

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Serena Bass's Garden

Serena Bass's garden in Brooklyn begins on the sidewalk. I didn't know that, the first time I visited, almost exactly a year ago, on a sticky summer evening. I had parked several doors down but began smiling when I saw the pots overflowing with flowers and shrubs. I knew I was close.

On a recent visit the sidewalk pots included lilies, a serviceberry tree, echinacea, grasses, sedums, clematis, honeysuckle, boxwood and ivy.

These vivid flowers on three-foot stems intrigued me. Dahlias? I queried, hesitantly. "I loathe Dahlias. They're Helio-somethings," countered Serena, who speaks only botanical Latin. They turned out to be Heliopsis, and quite new to me. But no longer.

The front garden - sidewalk and stoop - is drenched in warm colors and there is a strong petunia presence.

Few people know how to deploy coleus this effectively.

Don't you just want to lick those black petunias?

And that's just the front. 

You'll find my story about Serena Bass's gardens on Gardenista, with lots more pictures, including the cool blue inner sanctum. Plus cats.

Also, her cookbook is wonderful. I knew I had to buy it after having supper that steamy summer night last year. It is very funny, too. Laugh-out-loud funny. It's called Serena, Food and Stories (Stewart, Tabori and Chang).

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My Gardenista Stories

Empty windows

Nothing much to see here, really (or is there...?) but this view of the street means that spring has been declared.  The citrus trees have moved out to the terrace. 

The blue suitcase is one of several that will stash winter sweaters and mittens and scarves once they have all been washed and cedar-balled. And the boxy thing on the windowsill is a fancy noise machine that we bought at our last place, when unpredictable neighbors threatened our slumber. It makes very good cricket sounds, wave sounds, rain sounds. And other, esoteric sounds. Now, the machine is a helpful option for warmer nights when a souped-up, drive-by car, tweaked to backfire like gunshots cruises the blocks at random. The day of the subway shooting? Not a great day to hear that damn car.

Fat floor pillows will move in, now, the suitcase will move out, and the bay window will be a place for humans to spread out, lie on their backs, and look at the ceiling. It's remarkably therapeutic.

On Gardenista, you can see how our terrace wakes up, as the bedroom empties out.

Bloodroot in bloom

One of the most fleeting of spring's ephemeral wildflowers is bloodroot, Sanguinaria canadensis, native to the eastern US and Canada. If you catch them early you will find each delicate stalk furled within its leaf. They are exquisite. 

This patch is growing in the woods of Prospect Park, near another that had been stomped by humans or the off-leash dogs that sometimes race through.

(I have become a student of people-with-dogs during the pandemic. The combination tells very interesting stories, most of which the humans are unaware of - the dogs, on the other hand, know. The few folks who let their dogs off-leash in these woods do a lot of ostentatious shouting. And most of the dogs seem frantic. Both human and dog require a very special sort of attention, that neither is getting, apparently. Does one need qualifications to be a dog shrink? Perhaps I can just set up a booth on the sidewalk. But for the migrating birds like woodcock that sometimes rest on this urban forest floor, my brains simmers and steams.) 

Plant bloodroot if you can, and then get on all fours to enjoy the flowers in early spring. They like the shade of deciduous trees, because, like us, they enjoy spring sunlight.

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Book a Wild Walk

#18thStreetPollinators

Park B255O has a name. 

The #18thStreetPollinators sign I ordered arrived from Etsy and was planted with the first plants on Friday, March 11th. It provides a succinct explanation for curious onlookers. The goal of the garden? To transform neglected park into a calm botanical oasis for humans and a feeding-stop for New York City pollinators.

If you would like to make a contribution there is a Donate button in the left side bar. 

I was hoping to have an 18thStreetPollinators Instagram account established quickly for passersby wanting to find out more, but a vexing glitch at Instagram's end has stalled it, for now. Very frustrating (because of the time it wasted). Hence the update, here.

I spent two hours planting, but only after spending around 45 minutes shifting massive layers of large-chip mulch to reach the soil. I imagine it was dumped so thickly to suppress weeds. I do remember a very lush patch of chickweed here, last spring. There was also evidence of mallow (long, living tap roots) and dock. The only living things under the trees. Also plenty of earthworms! Which will help with drainage.

My first stop was plant-collection: They may not look impressive right now but it's still pre-spring and this collection is dormant. Gowanus Nursery's Michele Palladino kindly donated plants she had to remove from one of the gardens she tends. An Eden rose, Hypericum, fescues, and asters. Alyse, an Instagram friend, donated lots of Heuchera, as well as phlox, geraniums, mountain mint and a hyssop. I am so grateful.

The NYC Parks sign at least designates this a city park, but there has been no response yet to my emails asking about official stewardship. 

While I worked, four people arrived to sit on the benches. One threw my work bag off before settling down. They were three adults who were developmentally impaired, and their minder, who apologized about the bag, and promptly fell asleep (he snored). They just sat, not able to engage, apparently, and made noises from time to time while I dug. I hoped my activity was at least more interesting than what must be their usual sitting-session.

Michele also gave me two yellow root plants - Xanthoriza simplicissima. I had never seen it before and it solved a forgotten plant ID question for me. It makes fascinating sprays of burgundy flowers, which I have seen in the woodlands in Central Park.

I concentrated on one long bed, planting the asters near some of the allium bulbs I buried a few weeks ago, along with the fescues, the rambling rose, mountain mint and a stray Echinacea. Because they are more or less invisible to anyone who is not a gardener I do worry about stomping, but also feel that they are less attractive to plant thieves than something that looks perfect. The faster I can get plants in, the more established the park may look and the more the threat-level drops. 

Three neighborhood friends are interested in helping out and I think this is the germ on an idea: Walk-by gardening. Dead-heading, weeding, spontaneous, co-operative, decentralized, and intuitive. 

I'll mention again what the NYC Parks and Recreation Department receives in funding: Less than 1% of New York City's annual budget. Most parks and gardens languish for lack of maintenance. It's the ongoing care that sees the least investment. 

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Pinesploration, Fort Tilden

Plant walk and picnic

18 March 2022

$60

#cookforukraine

Into the Wild(s...: of Brooklyn)

In Green-Wood Cemetery there was a hornet's nest in a Turkish hazelnut tree. It is exquisite. If it was Art, people would line up and wait.

Under a young oak tree nearby there was a young raccoon, foraging for acorns. 

In Prospect Park a downy woodpecker stood silent for a minute. Was she listening or resting? Or dreaming woodpeckerish dreams?

In a patch of jewelweed where storm-fallen trees have created a slash of sunlight, hummingbirds feasted and fought among the flowers. Then they rested. Tiny as moths, fierce as fundamentalists.

They perched on the roots of tilted trees, preening and scratching, itching and plotting.

And at home, on the small terrace, a monarch found the milkweed, at last.

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Find me on Instagram @66squarefeet

Hike up a hill, get biscuits!

You may have heard that it has rained a lot in New York.  Bad for people. Good for plants.

Come and meet some of those plants during a series of new botanical walks, beginning on Labor Day, with a Lookout Hill Hike in Prospect Park. Yep, Monday. Tomorrow! There will be a minimalist but delicious picnic of fresh biscuits with toppings of butter, pawpaw, and lilac honey. And iced spicebush coffee.

On Saturday, September 11th, we will commemorate the 20th anniversary of that terrible day in a very positive way: walking among the trees and flowers and diversity - human and botanical - of Central Park's North Woods. Our Woods and Water walk will be followed by a picnic on a hill.

Finally, I am very happy to be returning to the New York Botanical Garden's Adult Education fall program with two walks, on October 8th and 17th.

See you there!

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Book for Forage Walks and Classes

Spring, in increments

Walking on a well traveled woodland path in Prospect Park I stopped abruptly. Diminutive bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis), the most exquisite little spring ephemeral, has emerged. The afternoon was overcast and the flowers were closed and well-wrapped in their leaf cloaks. I wished them well, so close to dog paws and people feet.

They have many companions - the gazillion germinating seedlings of last year's biennial garlic mustard (Alliaria petiolata) flowers. 

The damp leaf litter of winter is also green with garlic mustard that will bloom this May. Looking at the plants, I planned a forage walk around the cunning invaders from Europe. They are edible, after all, and rather delicious. If you like garlic. And mustard. 

The spicebush (Lindera benzoin) is beginning to bloom.

And so are these. But what are they? Elm?

On sunny slopes henbit (Lamium amplexicaule) is beginning to get overexcited.

And in damper, shadier areas, purple dead nettle (Lamium purpureum) is flowering. I'm wondering how, or if, it hybridises, because these leaves look a little different.

The magnolias have just woken up. Their petals taste like minted ginger.

 And under-appreciated Pieris is weeping in white.

It has begun.

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Book:

Blossom Romp

Invasivore Tour