Showing posts with label Shakespeare. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shakespeare. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Baby, it's HOT outside . . .











On the southern wall of my urban terrace garden, I keep a thermometer (seen in the photographs posted above, taken over two consecutive days respectively, before seven o'clock in the morning). I initially got this outdoor thermometer to keep in a cold-frame which was built specifically to use in the winterizing of my garden (as discussed in a previous post which you may refer to by clicking here and you may see photographs of the cold-frame by clicking here). Winter and its freezing temperatures prompting songs like Baby, It's Cold Outside, seem a distant memory. For at 6:41:23 AM, EDT, this Tuesday morning, the thermometer registered a little over 80 degrees as it did yesterday, giving me a good indication that by late morning or very early afternoon New York City, where I live and have my lovely garden, will officially meet the heat wave criteria for the tri-state area on this summer day, July 19th 2011.

A heat wave "is a prolonged period of excessive hot weather (we have been experiencing this in New York City) which may be accompanied by humidity" and "severe heat waves have caused catastrophic crop failures." (For more details on heat waves, please click here.) In addition to the extreme heat that has plagued New York City for the past several days, even more high heat, humidity, and near 100 degree tempeatures are anticipated for the remainder of the week and throughout the weekend. Therefore, the latter part of the aforementioned quote is what has me concerned when it comes to my terrace garden; because baby, it's hot outside . . .



Under "normal" summer weather circumstances I have to water my garden, where I grow over sixty things, by hand, three times per day (early morning, late afternoon-early evening, and late at night). However, when the weather conditions are severe, I need to water more often than that or I, too, have catastrophic failures with a number of my herbs, vines, plants, flowers, trees, and shrubs. Although the task of watering is time consuming — since I do it by hand — it does give me the opportunity to attend to minutest detail of each of the things which I grow in my garden (as discussed in a previous post which you may refer to by clicking here).




The scheduling of my watering ritual is always in between my free-lance writing, movie-making, and photo-art assignments, which for the past several months have dwindled. Thankfully, the majority of them can be fulfilled by my working at home, and, therefore, I am able to maintain my garden very well. However, for part of this week I have accepted a job to work in a Lower Manhattan office all day. While it is a blessing to have an opportunity for extra income in this economy, the job is spiritually draining, which is ironic since it is in a church;  and, so, today, after I gave each of the things that I grow in my garden a generous morning drink, I began to experience a feeling (perhaps prompted by the fact that where I'd be working would be spiritually draining) which is very familiar to me, and that feeling is regret.




Regret for the things I have done in my life; and regret for the things that I have failed to do. For if I had made better choices in my life, or if I had overcome certain physical and emotional obstacles, I might have more "regular" work, or I might book bigger free-lance assignments, and I might even have a garden with a watering system like the urban garden of a woman (whom I will call TD) that I know who, like yours truly, lives in the Upper Westside of Manhattan. TD's place is thirteen blocks north and four blocks west of where I live, and, like me, she has a terrace garden. Her garden has a has a lovely Hudson River view — with no high buildings to block the view's sight lines —  so the feel is open and expansive. Because her garden is not "hemmed" in by surrounding buildings, it gets a chance to cool down at night, unlike the garden of yours truly. Her garden also has an elaborate watering system, and another thing that is unlike yours truly is  TD and her computer scientist partner own their place, which I was told that they, in 1999, renovated for $400,000 — a fact not lost on me,  who at her ripe middle-age still struggles to pay rent.




I initially met TD a few years ago in 2008, through the Achilles Tandem Program (a cycling program that I have referred to in previous posts which can be found by clicking on the following links: ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, and SIX). The program, as I have said in the aforementioned posts, was initiated to enable blind, and legally blind folks like myself, to participate in cycling.




One Saturday morning after completing a ride offered by the Achilles Tandem Program where TD had been my cycling captain, I was invited by her to attend a party which she was throwing for her partner's birthday. TD and I had discussed gardening during our tandem ride, and she thought I might enjoy seeing her garden. I showed up at her party with a bottle of special vino, a box of my handmade greeting cards (which I showcase in my down-loadable brochure  as well as throughout the  store-front pages of my web-site, Patricia Youngquist Photo-Art , where purchase information is available).




I also brought TD and her partner some small cuttings from my herbs and a small — but very unique — plant from my terrace garden. I had thought that they might enjoy adding what I grew in my garden to hers. I did not know at the time that her apartment was a two story floor-through; nor did I know that her terrace garden overlooked the Hudson River and was a two floored garden chock full of numerous lush things including plants, herbs, trees, shrubs, and vines — all of which were watered by a very elaborate watering system.







At the party she served a huge array of foods, many of which were cooked on a large grill. The food was accompanied by a vast selection of wines and beers, and there were over sixty guests. Sixty guests is quite a large number to accommodate in a New York City apartment party. Therefore, the vast garden, and the enormity of the food and alcohol being served, quickly caused me to feel that all my humble (but heartfelt) gifts were inadequate, and that I too was inadequate. These feelings were cemented by the fact that the guests in attendance were highly educated and held successful jobs with large salaries. Even though I am highly educated and graduated with honors, I never landed or was even considered for employment that paid very much money. My feelings related to the personal and physical struggles that are associated with this fact came back at full force that evening. It was hard for me to accept that I was barely living pay check to pay check as everyone toasted their accomplishments with the latest and best vintage, but I nodded and smiled as they told of their success stories and was somewhat in awe that TD, with all the amenities one could ever want in her large apartment, all the loveliness in her garden, and the evident support of her computer science partner, was distressed that night because her ice-cream making machine was not working; it was only producing a cold runny soup-like dessert.





As it happens, I did ride with TD a few times after her soirée, including The Transportation Alternatives 2008 NYC Century Bike Ride , and ultimately she came 









to my garden for lunch, but, with some staff changes at The Achilles Tandem Program, TD stopped participating, so 







I don't see TD often, but, as it happens, I did see her recently on July 4th 2011, when I was on Manhattan's Westside Greenway to watch the fireworks, and so perhaps it was my seeing her again that made me think of her garden with its watering system today, and to revert to the inadequate feelings that I experienced the night of her soirée when I found myself imagining what my life might have been like if only . . .




Of course, my imagining if I had done things differently that I would be more successful by now is not only futile; it is also presumptuous and even ungrateful. It is futile because in real life there is no Control-Z or Edit+Alt+Undo, to change what one has done with their life choices. Shakespeare's Lady Macbeth, has told us, "What's done, cannot be undone"; and as my father used to say, "If the dog hadn't stopped to sneeze, he'd have caught the rabbit.". 



Sometimes I think, and perhaps you do as well, dear reader, that the mental reshuffling of the cards of life choices is an effort to keep them still active, keep the possibilities still open, sparing the pain of loss and failure. For me it is interesting to note that when I, as do other folks that I know, reshuffle the past, the outcome of my imagined scenario, and the imagined scenarios of folks I know, is always to believe that, had we done other things, life for us would mean that we'd be healthier, thinner, more talented, have better jobs, and always have more money. It is interesting to note this, because rarely in the reshuffling of life choices game, do I, or folks that I know imagine the scenario being having ill health, being fatter, being less talented, or having a worse job or no job, or being poorer; or, to not be alive at all to indulge in what ifs and if onlys, which is why I pointed out that my doing this is futile, presumptuous and ungrateful.




However, on a hot morning such as today, it is harder for me to keep a good perspective as I hand water my herbs, vines, plants, shrubs, and trees, with a prayer that they will not suffer and die from this afternoon's predicted heat, since I will not be around to water them, and cannot ask others that I know to do this for me, nor can I afford to pay someone to step in for me today while I am in Lower Manhattan.




My recently added Echinacea plants seem to understand my ambivalence about leaving them for the day, reassuring me with their waves and smiles as seen in the photographs posted below,














that they will hang tough in today's heat.




And they do seem to be enjoying terrace garden life. Now if the photographs that they pose for, which are available as prints, or as images rendered into invitations that preserve a moment in time, program covers that enhance any occasion, and greeting cards that are about more than communication, would start bringing in some revenue, they'd be earning their keep and possibly a watering system!  (-;







Tuesday, May 31, 2011

My "Shakespearean" Urban Terrace Garden Flowers: "They have their exits and their entrances . . . "






It's May 31st which means this "merry merry month"of May (as I referred to it just thirty days ago) is coming to a close, and so are my tulips,

pictured in the photograph (posted above), after having given myself as well as the herbs, plants, vines, trees and shrubs, that grow in my terrace garden nearly six weeks of enjoyment —  as indicated in several previous blog posts including a few that you, dear reader, might want to review by clicking here as well as here and here or by going to the Tulips Label (found on the left side panel of this blog) to access any post that refers to tulips.






In any event, the photograph (at the top of this post), was taken yesterday, in the northeast corner of my garden, where Juan V and I thought the tulips might like to hide for a while —  until we decide on a good location within my terrace garden for them to rest until next season. It has come to our attention that most folks like to cut back the leaves or the yellow stalks that appear once the tulip flowers are spent; however, yellow though they may be, it is truly necessary to let the stalks and leaves alone (or simply tie them up in a"ponytail"), in order for the tulips to get all the nutrients they need before they go to sleep until next April. It is the same situation for my Paeonia suffruiticosa (Tree Peony), which enhanced my terrace garden with its beauty for about six weeks. (I've featured it in several blog entries that can be found by going to the Paeonia suffruiticosa Label on the lefthand side of this blog page.) Much like the tulips, it is also ready for a hiatus until next spring (as indicated by the yellowing pods the peony flowers have left behind, which can be seen in the photographs posted below).














As I must do with the tulips, I need to leave the yellow and brown "remains" intact on my Paeonia suffruiticosa, so that it , too, can have its proper fill of nutrients before it goes to sleep until next spring. I can't say I blame any of them for wanting to take a long nap after all their thriving, and it now seems like an ideal time for them to do so, what with the summer heat that is sure to be on its way —  if yesterday's and today's hot temperatures are any indication of things to come.




However, my garden seems content at this moment, as evidenced by the "aerial" photograph (seen below) take by Juan V yesterday after giving many of the herbs, plants, vines, trees, and shrubs a haircut.










This aerial view shows off the lattice that Juan V built for me, using my bamboo sticks, as discussed in my post, Love Thy Neighbor — But Don't Pull Down Your Hedge, which you can refer to by clicking here. At this time, my Honeysuckle, is being "trained" to grow on this lattice, and it is just beginning to show signs of liking its new home as evidenced in the following photographs that feature part of the west side of my urban terrace garden.















I look forward to the Honeysucle flourishing, not only because of its magnificent flowers but because the owner of the building (whose white aluminum siding can be seen in the background of the photograph posted below), that is two doors west of me, has illegally converted it from an apartment building to a Bed & Breakfast, and the "guest's" main attraction seems to be pulling up their chairs amidst their laundry drying on their railing (also seen in the photograph below), and to stare at my urban garden. I'd I'd  like a bit of privacy up here, which I will have when my Honeysuckle builds its wall.










Meanwhile the things that grow in my garden are reminiscent of Shakespeare's As You Like It, in that my herbs, vines, flowers, plants, shrubs, and trees have their "exits and their entrances", as is the case with my tulips and peonies that are exiting for the time being, while the flowers from my honeysuckle vine make their entrance. Additionally I have some trees that "play many parts" — such as my 'Tamukeyama', which decided to flaunt his red leaves today — leaves that compliment its already extraordinary burgundy foliage (seen in the photograph below).








Saturday, April 16, 2011

My NYC Terrace Garden Spring Cleaning: Opened 62 Presents, Welcomed 2 New Arrivals


BEFORE:








AFTER:








AND A LOT OF FUN IN BETWEEN:








Yesterday, April finally relented and gave into Spring. Perhaps she heard me bring up the "cruelest month" quote from T.S. Eliot the other day, and said, "oh not that  bit again . . . " because yesterday's spring-like weather certainly made up for any ill feelings regarding April. I was able to unwrap all my herbs, plants, shrubs, and trees that had been fitted in winter-gear early last December when they were winterized. It was like unwrapping Christmas presents — 62 of them.

And I was blessed with two new arrivals (at the suggestion of Juan V, gardener extraordinaire, who has been mentioned in previous posts for his "trivet installation" and "turning table skills").  When he came to help me with my unwrapping today, he brought me an "Alfresco" mix of truly wonderful salad greens (red and green leaf lettuces with arugula, endive and radicchio) that boast a "Mediterranean flavor and feel," which I felt compelled to try with some  Greenmarket Olives, Pere Joseph cheese, and a Tom Cat baguette accompanied by Jovly — an off dry Vouvray — that I've just been to introduced by Nancy, a wine shop owner, whose exquisite taste in wine has never let me down and has been included in a previous post.






Here's hoping I have better success with salad greens this time around. Many years ago I had a "salad bar" theme,  attempting to grow salad greens in little containers, hoping my dinner guests would enjoy picking their own salad as much as I did (as indicated in the post that describes Juan V's "turning tables", and in case you missed it in the "referral" above: here is that link once again).








Upon reflection, those "salad bar" salad greens look a lot more timid than today's newcomer, or is it that I've become less timid as an urban gardener? In any event, some folks might say that my early garden years were my "salad days" (a  phrase that you may recall Shakespeare's Cleopatra using to say her affair with Marc Anthony was real — unlike her "salad days" with Caesar  when she was young and unreflective ), but I highly doubt those were my "salad days" in the way that Cleopatra describes such days, as I have never been young or non-reflective.






However, I think my newest arrivals will do just fine. They look pretty confident in photograph above the "salad bar" photograph, and even my Paeonia suffruiticosa (Tree Peony), seems to be staring at them in awe.














Happy Spring to you at last, dear reader, and I'll keep you posted on any new garden images that I add to my web-site, where you can find my collection of invitations that preserve a moment in time, event program covers that enhance any occasion, and greeting cards that are about more than communication. 






Please, dear reader, feel free to let  me know how your garden grows.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Attention & Reminder To Northeast Gardeners: Beware The Ides of March

Falling on the 15th of March, May, July and October as well as the 13th of any other month, the Ides signified the middle of the month on the Roman calendar. Today's "ide" was made famous by Shakespeare in his play, Julius Caesar, with the famous line, "Beware the ides of March," a warning that Caesar did not heed which cost him his life. 


Julius Caesar was betrayed and assassinated on the Ides of March in 44B.C. by a group of Roman senators — a fact which most everyone over the age of eleven knows from their having to read Shakespeare's recounting of this in their school years. 


So what does this piece of trivia have to do with a blog that (among other topics) discusses gardening? It may be a stretch, but gardeners should take a lesson from Julius Caesar's  not heeding a warning. In this instance, the warning that gardeners need to heed (at least those that live in the northeast) is to not — and I mean not, give in to temptation to unwrap any plants they may have winterized, and to definitely not plant anything new, if they want a thriving garden in the spring, summer, and fall that will come in due course.


Just because spring is "officially" five days away (and the northeast groundhogs Chuck and Phil predicted an early season), does not mean that plants, trees, and shrubs are finished resting for the winter. Give them all the time they need, after all, don't you like to sleep-in on occasion? 
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