Despite the poor turnout at our local community garden's new members' day the garden's blooming and growing like mad.
And speaking of growth, this neighbour's put their window boxes to good use. Those green tomatoes should be transforming into bright red ones in the next couple of weeks.Our little section of northern Bed-Stuy has been going through some changes. Good ones. Guerrilla gardener, Richard Reynolds, claims that once a long neglected area gets spruced up, that nearby areas follow suit. And our block is a notable example. When we first moved in five years ago, the front yards of nearly all the brownstones on our block were simply concrete slabs, while the back yards were dumping grounds and weed receptacles. We soon overhauled our back garden with some organic vegetable plots and our Jamaican neighbours have been competing ever since. They turned their barren dog poop infested yard into a garden extraordinare - with bright green astro turf; mosquito netted gazebo - complete with fireplace, and lounge chairs; ornate cages full of singing birds; every imaginable garden chotchke ever made; exotic flowers, trees, and this year, potatoes! While three of our other neighbours have redone the front of their brownstones, and a slew of front gardens have sprouted forth, making our front garden (unfortunately, as yet still just a concrete lot) look positively drab. Meanwhile, back at the Jewish hippie house the owner has installed custom made wooden benches, tables and plants out front.
I don't know why this sudden rush to green the neighbourhood, especially since most of these neighbours have lived here for over 15 years, but I'm loving every leaf, flower, and earthworm.
So while out on the front stoop with my son a couple of days ago, I saw our new white hipsterish neighbour whom I'd suspected of unashamedly buying drugs, pacing back and forth on Reggie and Celia's stoop. He looked nervous, clearly waiting for someone to arrive, and refused to make eye contact with me. Highly suspicious behaviour, thought I and reported this new activity to Big Joe that evening. "Oh that kid, yeah, he's my friend." This comment rendered me speechless for several minutes. "Friend? As in..." "Yeah. Friend, I've seen him around other places and he always smiles and says hello. I think he's painfully shy." Huh. This made me re-assess everything. Of course Big Joe, being "The Man" as Magnifico calls him, makes a point of getting to know each and everyone of our neighbours, and reaching out a helping hand to whomever may need one. I, on the other hand, realized in that moment, am more likely to warm to our long time neighbours of colour, simply because, as a mother they seem to warm to me. While our newer neighbours, young, white and hip, I feel look at me and my child in stroller with scorn and revulsion. But perhaps it's all in my head. In fact, I know it's all in my head. And I need to get out of my head, because it's become increasingly a bad place to be. The view is narrow, there's no air, no light, it's hot and humid with a cloying smell of old sweat socks and rotting meat, it's infested with fleas and aggressive cat-sized rats, there's no where to sit, not a drop to drink, it's claustrophobic, and worst of all, I'm all alone. I think it's time to take a permanent vacation from there and step out into the sunlight, take a deep breath, look around and see what's really going on and not just what I think is going on.
Brooklyn weather: hot and sunny.
