Sometime in the winter I'll drink a bit of yesterday's bloom and remember a blazing hot day in the New York City summer sun and the community garden as it is now. I'll remember talking late crop potatoes with Michelle while watching the bees on Adriann's Black Cohosh, laughing with Shari and Mitch, and seeing Rocco back standing at his garden gate for the first time since his injury last year. The tea will be full of memories of wheelbarrows of compost, the wind off the water and the sun, bike rides to Floyd Bennett and the work of a season. There are a lot of memories that a tiny dried flower can hold.
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2 comments:
Good to remind us that the garden can be a social enterprise.
I consider myself really lucky to be gardening in such a special place with some of the loveliest kooks I know. I bet there's a piece of your heart in your spot on the other side of the bridge too.
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