the neighbors

...down the road from where I grew up, on the way to the ocean, used to know this spot as the old Diamond property, today complete with four-legged friends...

perfect winter ocean

morning walk, before the snow

first snow

 the neighborhood cat crosses our porch while on her nighttime adventures

We had our first snowfall in the new house last night.  Woke from our warm bed to find the world outside with a fine dusting of the beautiful white stuff.  It looked so picturesque and felt so cozy to be in our own home looking out at our own yard, safe and sound in the midst of a chilly winter wonderland outside.  ...a good feeling.

Harvey's swans

It was another beautiful winter day.  I returned to the creek house as the sun was setting and beers were being cracked.  This evening there were two swans navigating the thin layer of ice now coating Hog Creek.  As we stood and watched the swans try and figure out what to do Nisse got a call from our friend Rossa.  She soon got off the phone and returned to where Tommy, Sebastian, and I were standing by the water's edge.  Harvey Shapiro, the long time boyfriend and companion of Rossa's mom, Galen Williams, was dying and there wasn't anything that could be done about it.  After a long and accomplished life it was his time to go.  We cheers'd and made a toast to the heavens in Harvey's name.  Just then the two swans began to run as fast as they could, their large flat feet clamoring on the alien ice.  With wings flapping they persevered and took flight, and in a beautiful display honked off towards Gardiners Bay.  Nothing else had to be said.

This is the obituary that the New York Times would publish the next day, definitely worth reading:
http://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/08/books/harvey-shapiro-poet-of-new-york-and-beyond-dies-at-88.html?_r=0

RIP Harvey, you will be missed.

 

First Friday of 2013

It was a good day.  Made it through the first week of the new year and feeling like things are moving in the right direction.  Got out of work early and headed up to Hog Creek to visit some old friends.  I'm looking forward to more good Fridays in 2013.

winter sunlight...

It's wild to think about the sights and sounds and experiences I have become so accustomed to living in New York City, even wilder to think about leaving them. One day I left the Horticultural Society of New York when they were still in that cavernous space on 58th Street. It was probably an interview, which would take the scene back almost ten years. From there I had nothing else on the agenda so I decided to stroll Central Park. Like most new to the city I would get terribly turned around, but I wasn't concerned. I knew I could figure out where I had to get to by that point in order to get back to safety, at that time a tiny room share in Park Slope. I was already used to walking a lot, and this afternoon I walked for a long time. Eventually I would end up in an alien land. I stumbled upon a fenced-in formal garden I didn't even know existed. I climbed stairs and found myself under a breathtaking wrought iron pergola covered in wisteria. It was summer or early fall so the park was rich in green, new growth. Giving my legs a break I would sit for a few and watch a gardener carefully pruning back the aged wisteria with a pole pruner. He seemed at peace. Carefully snipping the unwanted new shoots I would remember thinking to myself, "gosh, if I had a job like that I could last in this city a long time". This was on the heels of being at a party at my brothers apartment in Brooklyn and a friend of his recommending that I "just give the city ten years and see how you feel", a suggestion that seemed like pure lunacy to this young surf kid from a small ocean town. Sure enough nearly ten years would pass. I would learn the man I saw that afternoon was a gentleman named Paul Serra, Assistant Curator at the Conservatory Garden there in the north end of Central Park. (My walk had apparently taken me from the base of the park at 59th Street all the way up to 105th Street on the east side). Paul and I would not only get to know each other but would become good friends and colleagues tending to the Conservatory Garden under the direction of Curator Diane Schaub and Director Lynden Miller. I would get my chance to have an "office" most people would die for. And as my dear friend Diane would compliment, I would share some of my best years with that garden. I learned to love and respect the garden and the park and those that tend to it in such a caring and selfless way. Doug Blonsky, the President of the Central Park Conservancy, the organization that maintains the park for the city of New York through a model public-private partnership, himself wastes no time calling his horticulture staff the ambassadors to the park. After years I would learn how right he is, and how proud I am to say I am one of those ambassadors.

This week was a major week. Only a couple months ago we began the search for a home, a real house, and yard. Thanks to all the right people being in our corner we found a house that seemed perfect. We said "why not" and put in a bid, and to our amazement the back and forth happened quickly, and in our favor. All of a sudden the question of whether this might be the year we get out of the city became the question of how soon might we get out of the city, no "if" about it. We put out feelers on the work front and crossed our fingers. Hard work, it would turn out, had once again paid off as calls quickly led to conversations which led to setting up meetings. Our house bid was accepted, confirming we are buying our first home. Interviews were set, letting us know that we have the skills to take the show on the road. I would pause and look up to get caught by the morning sun as it narrowed through the buildings along Fifth Avenue and shot in to spotlight the wisteria covered pergola in the middle of the Conservatory Garden. It's these moments that make you stop for a sec, to behold the beauty of the here and now. Maybe it's a sight you have seen a thousand times before, but you never saw it like this before. Or maybe it's like you are seeing it for the first time, all over again. It's the exploration and adventure that will ensue that you don't even know yet. You will remember this place and time. The next challenge begins. With great admiration and respect you get a deeper glimpse into who you are and where you are going based on where you came from, and all of those steps along the way. The pergola and the wisteria, the tiers of spirea and yew, you have been so good to me.

winter weekend out east

it was wonderful to wake up to fresh snow and the quiet of the country
the beautiful old spruce in the backyard looked even more massive with it's winter coat on
We spent the day with my folks talking about the possibility of moving out of the city, and figured out that it is possible. "Just gotta jump" my mom kept repeating with confident enthusiasm. When night fell we took a drive and walked upon a snowy, windy Indian Wells to get our appetite up for Dad's best meat sauce ever according to mom. We climbed back in the car and listened to the new Amy Winehouse album and while we regained the feeling in our fingers realized how psyched we are about the idea and challenge of moving east.

Sunday morning we returned to Indian Wells for a daylight walk.
This is home.
And still, so psyched, ready, committed to this idea.
This year is about living on our terms.
My love, the creator of 365 days.
The challenge begins.

February, at dusk

the sunsets and sky and clouds have been sensational this month, I just can't help myself

Pic of the Day: Sun Sliver

For a brief moment in the morning the sun beams through the buildings along Fifth Avenue creating a spotlight on the Wisteria covered pergola in the central section of the Conservatory Garden in Central Park. What a fabulous visual, fleeting, no photoshop required.

(this is a test, my first foray into the world of mobile blogging action - let's hope it's the start of many good things to come! Cheers, aef)

Sunrise Series: Astoria, January 27

New York City woke to another fifteen inches of snow this morning. Knowing there's no such thing as a snow day in public horticulture I packed my bag full of calories and keys and coffee and began the pre-dawn trek west towards Manhattan Island. Laid up the last couple days with a shot back, my body was quick to remind me I might not be as mended as I had hoped. No trains came and after long enough that was it. As valiant souls continued to cram the platform I retreated. As I did the sun began to rise.

The emerging sun hitting the faces of the buildings along the avenue shone bright and radiant through the frozen street.
Thanks to the fanciness that is my new iPhone I posted the above pic to the book of faces and named it "Beautiful Nightmare".
They say this is New York's snowiest January on record. Can't argue that one. I paused to appreciate the spruce and London Planetree in front of St. Joe's. Nature: 1, Man: 0

Pic of the Day: Awesome Sky and Black Oak

The snow just stopped falling. Well, for now at least. The sky opened through the monstrous black oak (Quercus velutina) near my office and I got this shot off before commencing the shoveling. Even though I definitely complain at times, being outside every day of the year I feel a connection with the natural world I fear most others will never know. I take this moment to be thankful.

Pics of the Day: Conservatory Garden Snowfall

I never tire of the sensational mature forms within the Conservatory Garden in Central Park.
Seventy-three years later and more beautiful than ever.

Pic of the Day: Molten Harlem Morning

Another molten morning sunrise up in Harlem, on the advent of yet another day of snow shoveling.

the last day of 2009 (in snow)

I realized during yesterday's snow shower that I never posted these images of the Conservatory Garden to the blog. This is the morning of New Year's Eve. My friend and mentor Lynden B. Miller loves to quote Belgian landscape architect Jacques Wirtz as saying "A garden that is not beautiful in winter is not a beautiful garden". Clearly I couldn't agree more. Enjoy.
Yucca filamentosa 'Color Guard' at the end of one of the perennial beds in the English garden at the south end of the Conservatory Garden, accompanied by the fabulous structure of oakleaf hydrangea (Hydrangea quercifolia) and other shrubs, grasses and perennials providing winter interest.
It is under a fresh snow that I most love the crabapple (Malus floribunda) allees on either side of the central Italianate garden.
For it is winter that allows you the best chance to see the bones of a garden, the mix of smart horticulture and invaluable age that makes a place like this so special.

"Three Dancing Maidens" by German sculptor Walter Schott is a sensational piece of public art easily adored in every season.




I know, I know, I post a ton of images of the Conservatory Garden. But I think it is really important that people know this is a public space in Harlem, at 105th Street and Fifth Avenue, intended for all to enjoy, and in my opinion one of the best things in Manhattan.

Happy New Year!

Yucca filamentosa 'Color Guard' in front of an array of ornamental grasses, herbaceous perennials, and an oakleaf hydrangea (Hydrangea quercifolia) under fresh snow in the Conservatory Garden, Central Park, New York City, New Year's Eve 2010.

December ocean

Before heading back home from my folks house post-holiday we swung by Wiborg's for a quick walk. Cold, very cold, but beautiful as always.

Magnolia Sky

For the last few weeks I have been staring up at the sky a lot, pruning dead wood out of long stands of lilacs and magnolias. By this point I have gotten my eyes well conditioned to pick out the big, fuzzy magnolia buds and the smaller, plump, greenish-red buds of the lilacs. By the end of the day your neck is killing you from all those hours of looking up and your shoulders are about to fall off courtesy of the 6' pole pruner, but the shrubs look so much better and you realize it is well worth it. Not to mention I never get tired of the view. What I love about this quick shot from my phone this morning on my daily rounds is that it also sort of resembles all the cracking ice I have been chipping on the days that have been too brutally cold to prune. Ah, winter. And people say there isn't anything going on in the garden - ha!

winter morning, sunlight, spotlight