sunset series

 This evening we went down to the beach after work to get some fresh air.  It was just us and the plovers.

 (the forever botanist I am still trying to figure out what this is)

day off stroll

 A crooked yet beautiful Gardiners Bay on a perfect day off stroll with my love.

silent morning, a freewrite

this is the wallpaper in the kitchen of our new place, a perfect compliment to the wood paneling and faux Tiffany lamp over the dinner table

Quiet morning. Now at least. Woke to the sound of a chainsaw. 9am, day off, chainsaw. yeah. thanks. But I'm not complaining. My wife who got home only an hour or so ago from a 12-hour overnight on-call shift, she might have something to say. As it is she doesn't sleep well during the day so a surprise visit from municipal arborists and she didn't know what the hell was going on. My eyes instantly open I could guess as to what it was. The high pitched engine would rev and pause, a thump, rev and pause, thump. Then a second motor came to life with a slow grumble. A sharp sound would jolt my wife. I quietly tried to clue her in, both of us still unmoved. "They're removing a street tree on the block. The chipper will have to go for a while but the chainsaw will be done in only a few more cuts." The longer pauses and longer revs meant the arborist was down to the base of the tree cutting the larger trunk. I hoped for my wife's sake they would be done soon. The grumble of the wood chipper would continue after the chainsaw for a while. All in all they would be in and out, having taken down a large old tree in pretty bad shape, in about 30 minutes. By this point of course I am up and watching the end of the take-down. I've tried to make the apartment as dark and cave-like as possible but my mind is turned on so might as well watch. The man with the chainsaw in the front truck, the boom truck, I feel like I have seen before. He must be one of the main arborists for the Parks Department here in Queens as I have seen him around the neighborhood and he does good work. His long gray hair and strong swagger reminds me of my gruff tree nursery friends back home. Makes me realize I miss them. I would quickly notice that the tree being removed was right next to where we parked our car. Not a scratch. Those guys were good.

But now the silence is inviting. The hum of the fridge has stopped. The birds are chirping this morning, but not at this moment. Cars resume their zipping up our otherwise quiet, residential street. Must have rained, the asphalt under the tires is making that unmistakable sound. I ground coffee last night so I could make a french press without a peep this morning and it's almost gone. The fingers begin to warm up and go a little faster. I'm tempted to put music on, headphones that is, but I feel like I should relish in this still morning. It's peaceful with it's lack of distraction. I think about the to-do list that I have to begin battling. I have awesome new running shoes but going running with a mean head cold on a rainy day is not the smartest. Like much of my family before me I have a hard time sitting still. But this morning I am trying to stop and breath and take that moment to be thankful.

The new challenge I have been hoping for at work is going to come to fruition. I have been hired to aid in a new woodland restoration campaign in one of the greatest public parks in the world. Woodland management and restoration are two aspects of horticulture and arboriculture that I have wanted to get involved in from the start. In a major way the stuff that got me interested in the first place. I remember with great fondness being a kid in Amagansett following around Doc Whitmore on his bike as he rode around the neighborhood talking with people about their trees. His big frame would stand and stare up at these genius creatures with a knowledge you knew was deep and valuable beyond his years of practice. Hurricane Gloria would show up around that time, in the fall of 1985. I would look around at the devastated landscape of the eastern end of Long Island, staring into the uprooted masses of roots only moments ago anchoring historic oak and elm and maple. Secretly I hoped the trees would say something to me, clue me in a little, begin to give me the knowledge like Doc had. Twenty six years later I realize I'm starting to learn. I know my trees and my native plants. I know treecare and proper pruning practices. But there is still a lot to learn, a lifetime's worth in fact. Any real horticulturist can tell you that. The one thing about this profession, you will never stop learning if you keep an open mind. I'm excited to hone my skills further. ...silly little things like getting real good at tossing a throwbag and line into towering trees with precision. I'm psyched to get to know different lichens and fungus people don't see that are right in front of them. Time to know even better the laundry list of introduced invasive plants that threaten our natural ecosystems with major change. I'm going to get really good handling a chainsaw. I want to train my eyes to see the forest for the trees and then be able to see the forest for the forest again. And the whole time work towards being able to properly articulate my knowledge to share it with the world around me. Time to become a certified arborist, and citizen tree pruner, two goals I've put off for long enough. There is a to-do list that I have been building for a while now. Time to start chipping away at it.

Inspiration, in the form of a screeching chainsaw, who woulda thunk?

Monday Morning Freewrite

It was a summer weekend a few years ago. My love and I had driven well outside of the city to join her folks for a weekend of camping and visiting a few wineries. The next day we came upon the Brotherhood Winery. Touting itself as America's Oldest Winery we were intrigued and stopped in for a tour and tasting. Our guide was a thin man, full of energy. He reminded me of a young Sammy Davis Jr. and in fact his name may very well have been Sam. Sam had his little spiel down pat, and wasted no time sharing with us the winery he had apparently come to know and love. Through the tour and tasting, both of which were fabulous, he kept repeating a phrase. "Love the wines you drink, and drink the wines you love" was his mantra. Whether a wine snob or a total novice you are going to realize that there are wines that speak to you. Enjoy that process of discovery and don't waste your time drinking wine that doesn't appeal to you. If you like a wine that someone else puts up their nose at, then so be it, it is a personal choice and there is no right or wrong answer. And at the same time, drink the wines you love. If there is a bottle that you know will benefit from aging, fine, but don't have a full shelf of bottles you never drink because you are waiting for something or someday. Buy two bottles, he would urge with his quick smile, one for now and one for later. Though I don't remember if he ever said "Carpe Diem", the sentiment was along those lines and it made a lot of sense. Recently I have been thinking a lot about Sam and his words of wisdom that day. Clearly he spoke to me, about the subjective journey through life that each of us leads, about the fragility of life, and the importance of doing what you love and loving what you do. To jump from one cliche to the next, he is right, life is too short.


In a few months I am going to be teaching a group of high school kids about gardens and garden design. I have already been thinking about how to describe the creativity, vision, and planning that goes into creating a beautiful landscape. Great garden design takes knowledge and foresight to set the foundation, and from there nothing is more valuable in the world of horticulture than time. Time shows you how plants will grow into a space, carefully helped along by the watchful eye of the gardener and careful use of pruners and saws to mold the vision. You have to see what becomes of the environment you set out to create, and how people choose to relate to it. How can I describe that to a bunch of kids raised in a technological age of instant gratification, older in years but still teething on their electronic pacifiers we call the Blackberry and the Sidekick?

I suppose this is why I first went into anthropology in school. Thanks to amazing education and amazing educators I realized that school is really all about problem solving. The better the school the better you become at problem solving, and thinking outside the box to achieve the proper solution. I remember Mario Montano, my college adviser, and how he would ingrain in me that anthropology was not a career path as much as a mindset. Each person lives in and creates their own environment based on their subjective views of the world around them. If you are good you can take a step back and look objectively at the same scene, what went into creating it, why it is as it is, and what it means in relation to the bigger picture of life. Then you can start to think as an anthropologist. Every class that wasn't an anthropology class I filled with art. And I guess it is no wonder why Edward Hopper would to this day be one of my favorite American artists.

(Chop Suey, oil on canvas, 1929)

Shy and introverted, Hopper depicted snapshots of American life in relatively simple and straightforward scenes. Yet he got you right there, right into that environment, right alongside those characters and how they interacted with their own space and reality. I was thinking yesterday about one of my favorite Hopper paintings, "Early Sunday Morning" from 1930.


I guess what speaks to me most is the sense of pause that Hopper created with his artwork. He not only presented a scene, but he gave you the chance to sit and meditate on that scene. He gave you that little glimpse into another time and place so that you could wonder about the little things, how the sun bounced off the geometric shapes, how the soft forms of the people related to those lines, how man and nature fit together to create life. I could sit and look at Hopper's paintings for hours on end. Others might completely disagree, and let them, for art is like life, and it is a subjective experience.

But some things are givens. In this country, in this technological age, we all have to work; there is no denying it. My mother pointed out a long time ago that in our lifetimes we will work more than we will do anything else: sleep, eat, spend time with loved ones, etc. So you might as well do what you love and love what you do. We can look at great leaders and creators and visionaries and see that they never got to where they did by standing idle and waiting for life to come to them. With a good education and strong foundation we can see challenges laid out before us, and we can take on those challenges to better our lives and the lives of others around us. We each have a different take on life and a different way to contribute. The tree work I love to do might not speak to others, the same way others line of work might not make sense for me. But together we work to provide and maintain an industry that the rest of the world relies on.


Every day I see hundreds of people going about their business in this, one of the greatest cities in the world. Yet most people seem unhappy, and grimace and rush through their days, their work, and their lives. And I am not saying that I don't do the same. But isn't it a shame that we don't take the time to step back and look at our environment? I was spilling through old photos long since forgotten about and came across some shots from a field trip to nurseries and gardens out on Long Island. I found one shot of a statue, washed with age but still standing strong and stately in front of a stand of London planetrees. I thought, this is beautiful but I missed it the first time around. I too forgot to take the time to meditate on the little things that enrich our lives, that provide the quality in "quality of life". So, in the words of Jon Stewart, here is your moment of Zen.

sunrise headphones

"I can't seem to face up to the facts.
I'm tense and nervous and I can't relax.
I can't sleep 'cause my bed's on fire.
Don't touch me I'm a real live wire...
Psycho killer, qu'est-ce que c'est?"
-Talking Heads, 1977



The good news is that my computer is up and running again. The bad news is that I apparently fried my USB ports so no uploading of images for me. Guess that means bloom blogs are still on hold. Sorry for the inconvenience.

home town drive (winter edition)

It was a spectacular weekend and thanks to the presidents la femina and I were able to take two days off together and get out of the city. We headed east to my folks place and my home town out at the end of Long Island. Since our engagement we have been having a lot of fun thinking about where we might get married. There are a few things we know: fall, east end of Long Island, close to or on water is important, the general size, focus on being outside and enjoying the surroundings, space to drink, eat, and dance until we can't move anymore. And then there are a lot of things we don't know: our ultimate budget, what "expensive" really means in terms of numbers, safeguarding against bad weather, and a million other topics we haven't even thought up yet. But we decided not to get too ahead of ourselves. We used the weekend to treat ourselves to an adventurous drive around EH and MTK to brainstorm some ideas. I kept reminding myself this was more for information gathering than decision making. In the end we were excited to find that we did learn a lot about how to look at a space and what spaces we already love and different ways to think about doing the ceremony and reception. Above and below are a few pics from our days out and about.

Mansion and Hydrangea

One of the first stops we hit with my mom, who lined up for us a special viewing of a mansion overlooking the water off Cranberry Hole. The place was massive, and so funky, and parts of each of us really loved it. The space, as terrific as it was, however, would need way too much amending to make it work for our wedding, more money and time than we knew was possible. Such a shame, but we still loved lurking in those old hallways guessing about all the summers gone by.

Fish Factory and Pinus

We told mom we'd see her at cocktail time and we sat for a minute to plan our general itinerary. On our way out to Montauk I took my love by the fish factory. As much as it was a wedding planning drive it was also a chance for us to visit a bunch of the beautiful vistas I was fortunate enough to grow up surrounded by as well as share them with my love. Granted rusted warehouses aren't necessarily beautiful to everyone, I knew she would love how they looked against the sand and evergreens and blue sky. We put the car back in drive and moved on.

Montauk Manor

We climbed the hill to Montauk Manor and it reminded me of a million years ago when my old babysitter worked as an engineer there. The building is massive and so picturesque standing tall above the village.

Montauk Manor and Prunus

The courtyard has these fabulous old cherry trees that have weathered the storm well in their nice sheltered nook.
This sure does scream wedding, but the sticker shock could also have us screaming for the hills. There was no need to talk to anyone or attempt to get an actual quote. It's winter in Montauk and it is a different beast. We were just out for fun, and nothing was going to interfere with our day dreaming.

We migrated down to the ocean. One of the things we discovered right away was that most places do not necessarily have a big meeting/event space. We scoped out what might end up being great accommodations recommendations more than wedding spots. But hey, we're learning, and that is awesome. A few places we checked out were awesome in fact. The catch I realized though is that we were basically trespassing around a few "members only" areas so I had to limit amount of pics posted. Ooops! ;) Silly kids!

But when we got to the end of East Lake, a road I definitely hadn't been on in years, we stumbled upon the Inlet, a restaurant mom noted that morning.

The Inlet Restaurant

Since it was winter we couldn't get too close or inside but we decided we have to get back here during the summer and check it out. The beach was nearby, plenty of parking, some great water views. According to the internet and some images I found on flickr the food looks slammin'. One thing about restaurants is the question of where to dance, another very important aspect of our special day. But the Inlet with it's two big decks had us really intrigued. Coming soon: Montauk Summer Session 2009!

Maidstone Pavilion

From Montauk back to Amagansett, my roots, for some more drivebys and snacks. Eventually the sun was fading and so were we. As a last stop we decided to climb up into Springs, to one spot we know we love. The pavilion has been home to some of the best, most raucous, most loved, and most blissful parties and moments ever. How we would make it work we still have no idea, but we did talk a lot about getting married somewhere that means something. And this place does.
It might not look like much to the unknowing eye, but this wooden structure has more life in it than you could ever imagine.
And the surrounding beauty? Oh, come on, it's unmatched as far as I'm concerned.

Sunken Garden

The other place we love that falls into the "how would we make it work?" category is the sunken garden. It is a relatively unknown spot and for that reason we love it all the more. We love it as one of the last sacred spaces out east that hasn't gotten too bitten by all the selfish tourism. Before calling mom to let her know it was time to head back to their place we did a quick walk through. The space was bigger than I had remembered and it was so fun to envision all of our loved ones sitting and celebrating our love. Who knows if the owners would ever in a million years consider it, but it was fun to dream.

Now, on to that cocktail.

Ahmad Jamal Trio, "Darn That Dream", 1959

There's something about fall in New York that always makes me go back to jazz. The two go clearly and easily hand-in-hand to me. A perfect soundtrack while walking in the wind and whirling leaves and turbulent transition to winter. Lazy nights listening to the old Verve album "Ella and Louis" and dreaming about things like moonlight in Vermont. Amidst the barrage of nauseating Christmas music (CBS Radio, why did you have to start so soon?!?!?) I pray they might play a little Vince Guaraldi Trio, that classic "Peanuts" jam that you can't deny puts a smile on your face. Of course, my impatient ass bought "A Charlie Brown Christmas" so I don't have to necessarily listen to the radio at all for the next month, which I totally recommend doing by the way, but I digress. Among the other great jazz pianists of our day is Ahmad Jamal, below with his trio in 1959. I was introduced to Ahmad Jamal some years ago by my father while working with him at Florence & Son, in East Hampton, NY. Always a keen ear for excellent jazz and opera, dad loves Jamal's piano playing. And I must say, I'm a fan too. Two seconds ago I learned he just put out a new album in 2008. I should do more searching, but for now, Ladies and Gentleman, Ahmad Jamal...

(courtesy of youtube and thanks to my brother Tim for finding it)

"I think shuffle is psychic"

TodayI let people know I was leaving my job for a good step in the right direction for me these days. The feedback was amazingly positive but still a heavy day and series of emails to write and send. Luckily the ipod shuffle was treating me good on the ride home from the office. My old roommate Jen and I would talk about the psychic properties of shuffle at times. At times it does deliver a perfect soundtrack you couldn't script. I didn't pay attention the whole time but scribbled down a few names in the outer margin of the wrinkled paper as I'm known to do.

"Ballade" by Illyah Kuryahkin off the album Count No Count
The melodic distortion of this album blows my mind. I don't know what it is, but I can listen to songs off this album over and over and over again. If I could make distortion sound that pretty I might quit horticulture.


"Sprout and the Bean" by Joanna Newsom off the album The Milk-Eyed Mender
Combine this album with grad school in horticulture followed by subway adventures all over the five boroughs to end up at the best hidden gem gardens and you have a pretty fabulous series of mental snapshots. If only I could describe the dichotomous magnificence of grit and beauty. I thank Jake Martin for turning me on to Joanna Newsom.


"Battle of Who Could Care Less" by Ben Folds Five off the album Whatever & Ever Amen
Takes me back to another place and time yet in the post-work subway rumble I can't help but think of a certain someone acting painfully unprofessional these days. I rock back and forth losing focus on the crossword. I'm rocking out like Ben would want my white ass to be.


"Drag Days" by Guided By Voices off the album Under the Bushes Under the Stars
I was originally given this album by either Tim or Gian Carlo, my brothers, because our friend Shelby from Memphis played on it. It was a long time ago and it took me a little while to get into it, but now this might be one of my fave GBV records.

Others made appearences of note but it is now late and I have a long day at my new job tomorrow. Thank God I'll be back in the gardens.

The Full Melvin

Melvin Motorboat

Friends and family will be happy to know that Melvin is now officially cast-free. Following the cast and the e-collar its funny to see him without anything on. Hence, the nickname of the week, The Full Melvin. Yeah, we're having entirely too much fun. It's kind of ridiculous. We know.

Great weekend at home entertaining good ol' friends. And now psyched to have another day off before testing out a new job in Central Park. Free time? Oh, I'm down. Happy Sunday on a Monday!