Minding The Peas




Growing tip of a snap pea.

Three years ago I inquired about purchasing a bunch of pea shoots at the one stall I figured most likely to have them of all the stalls at the Grand Army Plaza Greenmarket. The proud young ladies, who sell all kinds of edible sprouts and greens, pointed out the pea sprouts in a plastic-lined straw basket. I explained that I was looking for the shoots, err, the tendrils and leaves of a mature pea plant. They explained to me that selling those would ruin the pod and pea harvest. I thanked them, disappointed, and was on my way.

Pea sprouts after just a few days, sprouted in a pot on my windowsill.

Ever since I bought that one dollar bundle of pea greens from a Hmong American farmer at the Minneapolis Farmers' Market in 2008, I've scanned our Brooklyn greenmarkets for fresh-cut (in today's parlance -local) pea greens. I have always presumed the greens to be sensitive to lengthy storage, just as are the fresh peas and pods, and so have not looked to produce markets in Chinatown. Although, in season, I would expect to find them there because Chinese cooking demands snow pea greens and sprouts for several dishes. Lately I have been hearing that you can pick them up at the Union Square greenmarket, but haven't confirmed this myself.

A pea green -stem, leaves, tendril.

It makes sense that the garden, or shelling pea, Pisum sativum, would garner all the attention. It's wrapped green spheres are sweet and nutty little bites of spring perfection. Then there are the snap and snow peas, with their crispy crunch and phyto-saccharidity. This is where all the breeding work has gone -into bearing perfect, sweet fruit. It was Dr. Calvin Lamborn, at Gallatin Valley Seed Co., who discovered a swollen, edible-podded pea plant after crossing a mutant pea with the snow pea, Pisum sativum var. saccharatum. Immediately after his discovery, he began a breeding program to perfect Pisum sativum var. macrocarpon -the snap pea. Ten years later, snap peas became a marketing success and, today, can be found in almost every grocery store freezer.

Snap pea.

There hasn't been any significant breeding of peas for distinctive greens, although I am willing to bet this year's greens that there are local, heirloom snow peas in China that have been selected over generations just for their greens. It is worth saving your own open-pollinated pea seeds for selection toward the best greens. I've read in a few different places that the 'Oregon' snaps, such as 'Oregon Giant' and 'Oregon Sugar Pod,' are the best for pea greens, although any sugar snap or snow pea variety should do. In the interest of your health, it is wise not to eat the greens or peas of any ornamental peas, like the famously scented sweet peas, Lathyrus odoratus.

Our short double row of maybe 30 pea plants.

We are growing a dwarf variety of snap pea, called 'Sugar Ann'. I selected this variety for its diminutive size, usually less than 24 inches, because I began growing them in a small container garden. This year, at the beach farm, I've used the last of those seeds (they usually store well for three or so years), and the short size has helped overcome the winds at the site. Next year I plan to grow a taller variety, maybe one of the Oregons, tempting the winds of fate.

Looking closely, you can see where I snipped the greens from the main stem.

So, when do you harvest your pea greens? After you've harvested your pods? By then it may be too late, having warmed significantly, and your greens are likely to yellow, toughen, their tendrils stringy and branches woody, the plant possibly suffering from mildew. Before you harvest your pods, then? You may get significantly less pea pods if you harvest flowering branches and cut too many energy producing leaves, but before the pea pods form is when you should start eyeing your pea plants for their greens.

After snipping the pea greens, new growth will stem from the leaf axil.

It is important to let the plant mature enough to tolerate your trimming. Allow your peas to grow to at least one foot tall, because you only want to clip greens from a healthy, vigorous growing pea for the most tender and best-flavored greens. Depending on the weather and when you plant, the best pea greens can be harvested in the NYC area somewhere between April 30 and May 30. Of course, you can keep harvesting those greens as long as they are tender, no matter the date.

Edible pea flowers are either white or purple.

Give yourself a taste of those pea greens in the garden. If the tendrils are tough in the field, they won't get any better in the kitchen. Where the tendrils might be tough, the leaves and thicker stems may still be tender, or may soften under the influence of the saute pan. Experiment! I've found that semi-tender tendrils may toughen a bit with gentle cooking, and it is helpful to cut them smaller than the rest of the greens. I've read, too, that storage in the fridge for more than three days can toughen up pea greens, although I have not waited long enough to discover this myself.


Growing Conditions for snap and snow peas:

  • Any well-drained soil will do.
  • Work in compost.
  • Six hours of sunlight
  • In the NYC area, watch the weather and plant anywhere from March 10th - April 10th.
  • Soak seeds overnight and plant directly in prepared bed according to seed packet directions.
  • Mulch with straw to preserve moisture if necessary.
  • Spring rains are usually enough water until May, always water regularly during dry spells.
  • Ideal growing temperatures are 50 - 65 degrees F.
  • Add stakes or netting for peas to climb.
  • Once a foot tall, you can fertilize with just a little 5-10-10 -if any at all.
  • Watch for slugs.
  • Watch for aphids in fall growing season or early summer.


If you do not have access to a community garden, yard or container garden, you can raise pea sprouts on your windowsill. I have only tried this in spring, but I do suspect fall is a good time as well. Summer may be too hot and humid and winter too dry and dark on the windowsill, but why not try in every season?

Windowsill snap pea sprouts.

Purchase some snap or snow pea seeds and soak overnight in a bowl. Find a container with drainage and fill it 3/4 full with good quality potting soil or compost. Dampen the soil thoroughly. Make sure to have a pan to catch water underneath.


Place the soaked pea seeds evenly around the pot. You can fill more densely than I did here. Then cover with a thin layer of potting soil or compost and dampen. I covered it with cling wrap to maintain the moisture until the seeds sprouted.

Soil-covered seeds.

In just a few days your pea sprouts will emerge.

The pea sprouts after about 10 days from planting.

Snip above a set of leaves so that the plant will continue to grow new leaves. Keep the sprouts watered as long as you plan to snip new sprouts. You can eat these pea sprouts much like you would the pea greens - fresh in a salad, stir fried with garlic and chili pepper, with pasta, or any number of other ways. You can see my pea green recipe here.

Pea Sprouts - sprouted peas, young and tender.
Pea Greens - mature pea leaves, stems, flowers, and tendrils.
Tendrils - the curling, "grabby" apparatus of the vine.
Dou Miao (doh-meow) - pea tips or greens, pea sprouts sometimes labeled this way, the Chinese name for pea greens.
Mangetout (manzha-too) - French meaning "eat all," used to describe snap peas.
Snap Peas - edible rounded pods, peas, and greens.
Snow Peas - edible flat pods, and greens.
Shelling Peas - edible peas and stronger-flavored greens, inedible tough pods, the English pea.



There Is A Thin Line...



...between lush, rain fed growth and monstrous, overgrown plant demons. You'll know it when it happens.


Some good ol' New Yorker banter:

Neighbor  "When will the rain be over?"

-Don't know

Neighbor  "Yeah, what are you doing, planting a water garden?"

-Nah

Neighbor  "What? Are you planting rice now?"


Should Be Farming


My plan was to hit the beach farm today, but I simply could not get my act together enough to finish an application for a residency program last night. Post-mark deadline today, I will be desk-bound until I am finished. In lieu of going today, I will post some pictures from last Saturday's beach farm visit which in all the busyness never got posted.


I hope you can see how the front broccoli tent is ballooning out. That is because the broccoli is getting quite large. The back tent broccoli was planted 2 weeks later than the front and are much smaller. I now see the benefit of planting out earlier -despite slow green growth at first, strong roots develop and then speedy green growth when the temperature warms.

I released the stakes tying the whole tent apparatus together so the broccoli will lift the tenting as it grows upward. I really wanted to expose the broccoli to the cooler air, but I had to remind myself that the tent is to keep the moths out as much as it was for protection from the winds.

Inside the tent. It's hard to weed in there, and the broccoli is super tender, as if grown in a greenhouse.

The garlic is getting quite large, the stems at the soil level almost an inch in diameter. I'm expecting scapes sometime in the next two or three weeks.

And, of course, the peas.


Mr. Plea Pants



Isn't that the name for a lame public defender? "Step up to the bench, Mr. Plea Pants."

This morning, on my way out to pick up the laundry, I stopped at the side yard. I see a cat resting happily on the plants (what else is new). I go in to chase the cat out and I notice something squishy under my foot. Looking down, lifting my rubber (thankfully) shoe, I see that I have put all my weight on a dead baby pigeon -or was it alive before I blindly stepped? Ack.


Upon my return from the corner laundry, I see sanitation workers yelling up at our building. Then they ask me if the pile of hypodermic needles in the truck came out of my garbage. Does it look that way? We have a neighbor on dialysis, but I have never noticed needles in the trash before. Finally, she hobbled out and denied they were hers. I told the sanitation worker that there is a clinic on Coney and the users pass by our place every day, and maybe they threw it in there. Who knows, and I get why he was upset. I would be too if I accidentally got stuck with one of those needles when I threw my trash in the pail. Sheesh.

The purple mic.

Fortunately, I had my taping at WNYC to look forward to, which I think went well, although I did have some issues. I may have said plea pants a dozen times. I also think that any dates I gave probably do not match up with any dates in reality. And a thought on taped interviews: do not make explanations overly complicated. It throws you off your game when the host looks at you as if to say, "I do not understand your explanation, are you aware that we are taping?" For example, when she asks you how you found the community garden your plot is part of, just say, "I was walking around and stumbled on it." Don't say, "My wife was away, I was bored, I saw the park in the Times, went there, stumbled on the garden, contacted the administrator, proposed an art project, I am an artist, they didn't know what to do with that, put me on the waiting list, then we got the plot." I'm what editors call "job security." The host makes it real easy for you, so keep it simple.

We didn't mention the blog at all, or I don't remember it coming up. If it hadn't come up, I think I understand why, now, as I thought about it afterward. Media isn't interested in media stories, it's interested in people stories. Talking about blogging is a little 2007, and WNYC doesn't really want to talk about that. What they really want is the personality and their story, revolving those around a central motif. The blog may be linked on their website after the segment airs.

Pre-tape photo op.

Amy is very personable and made me as comfortable as I could be. She read her lines the way butter melts on hot bread and said my tricky name without pause. She smiled when I stumbled over pea plants. The producer, Joy, is a lovely, cool-headed professional, who was apologetic about a minor delay in our taping time. For those of you in on this, I wrapped it up with "Thanks for having me." Not my favorite, but does happen to flow right off the tongue. 

And I just made my pledge.

Afterward, I was in a bit of a conversation with myself, and somehow found myself training over the Williamsburg Bridge. What? I've never gotten on an M (or V) train unintentionally. I saw that it stopped short of the front of the W4th St. station, but just got on anyway. Oh, well -I decided to get off at Marcy and walk to the G train since I would have to pay again anyhow. Has someone else I know done this recently?




Pasta, Pea Shoots, Woodsy Mushrooms, and Wild Garlic




The last thing I ever intended for this blog was to talk about food or cooking. To be fair, I began blogging with aesthetic gardening, flower gardening, with nothing of the vegetable kind, in mind. Since then, I began reading what others were saying around their gardens, and of that became an awareness of the accord between the garden and the kitchen.  It may be hard to believe, but I never gave that much thought, and most often saw the produce of any vegetable garden I have tended as a source of fresh vegetables to eat uncooked, there in the patch. 

But all this has changed, hasn't it? I am now a dedicated foodie, a forager, a farmer, my kitchen a forum for fresh and fancy foods? No, not really. Although I have a few tricks up my sleeve, my meal palette is actually quite limited, and my time for cooking quite the same. But the media does like talk of food way more than gardening, enough so that garden talk has become the preamble to food discussion. And I suppose that makes sense, especially as we talk of vegetable, ahem -food, gardening.

This Thursday I'll head down to the WNYC studios to record 20 minutes of talk with Amy Eddings about gardening peas, and more specifically pea shoots, and maybe some chat about city vegetable gardening, garden blogging, and community gardening. I hope to figure out a way to drop the word artist and frankmeuschke.com in there somewhere, maybe as a .exe, one that surreptitiously opens only after the 20 minutes has been edited down to the broadcast five. In preparation, I'm constructing statements on the confluence of painting and gardening.

As it so happens, I have had WNYC over for dinner once before, several years ago. My family's turkey stuffing was on the table, and Leonard Lopate and Ruth Reichl were guests. Ruth, editor of the now defunct Gourmet magazine, mentioned that the recipe had reminded her of polpettone. If you were listening, you may have heard the crickets, because I had no idea what that was and had little interest in admitting to my ignorance (until now, apparently). So, like everyone else, I looked it up online afterward, to find it's essentially meatloaf, Italian style, albeit more interesting than your average American loaf of ketchup, onions, and ground beef.

This time my guests would like to have pea shoots for dinner and I've harvested just enough to experiment with a pasta recipe before my appearance on Thursday. Of course, my instinct is to relate how delicious it is to eat them raw, snipped right off the plant, washing optional. After that, wouldn't one want to have it in a salad with the slightly bitter and snappy fresh greens also harvested now, a dash of olive oil and lemon, salt, and pepper? Those really are the first things to talk about and two things I've already eaten this spring. A way to eat cooked pea shoots is in a simple stir fry, which I made the first time I ate pea shoots several years ago, after I bought a rubber-banded bunch for one dollar from Hmong farmers at the Minneapolis Farmers' Market.

Pea shoots are sweet, a little nutty, distinctively pea, but without it's starchiness. They go well with earthy, woodsy ingredients, so I went to the farmers' market on Cortelyou to pick up cultivated mushrooms more exciting than the usual baby browns I can get around the corner -but those would work, too, in a pinch of any kind. The yellow and gray oysters were 7.99 a half pound and the hen of the woods was the same. My brown paper bagful cost me ten even. Dry, fresh mushrooms are fairly light-weighted and you'll get your money's worth in flavor.

I went to Caputos on Court to pick up some guanciale, fresh ricotta cheese, parmigiano, pecorino toscano, fresh pasta (out of pappardelle, out of fettuccine, had to settle for linguine), and ravioli. I bought the "wrong" ravioli, and left that out of the evening's exploration, saved for Wednesday when I will cook them with farmers' market asparagus and the remaining mushrooms. The guanciale is a cured, but not smoked pig jowl, a delicately textured "bacon," that reminds Betsy of flavors somewhere between turkey skin and pancetta.

Wild garlicAllium vineale, has a very earthy flavor, with subtle hints of garlic and shallot. I foraged these from the fields at the beach farm on Saturday, clipped the roots and stems, peeled the first layer of skin, washing thoroughly, and chopped. You can find wild garlic in most any woods or unmowed field right now in the metro area.

I have been growing peas in house as well as at the farm. Those on the right are cut from mature, beach farm plants, earning them the right to be called shoots, as opposed to the sprouts seen on the left. There may be some confusion about which should be called shoots on the web, but there is no doubt in my mind about which is which. Recently sprouted peas should be called sprouts, while mature vegetation cut for eating can be called shoots, but should be called pea greens to save from any confusion. Don't confuse pea sprouts with mung bean sprouts, which are an entirely different food.

The field grown pea shoots are robust, leafy, and with flowers -a mouthful of fresh pea flavor.

The in house sprouts are similarly flavored, although I expected them to be less so, and slightly more tender, but without flowers, and an altogether different eating experience because of their diminutive size.

I sliced the guanciale, pronounced gwan-chee-ah-lay, and crisped it to a light golden brown over low heat. I poured the rendered cheek fat into a bowl for later use -it's liquid flavor gold. After placing the the guanciale on the side, I placed a couple of pats of unsalted butter in the pan and softened the wild garlic. Then I cut up some of the mushrooms, which were very clean and required no washing (nice! no water), and tossed them in. Meanwhile the salted water was boiling and ready to receive the fresh pasta.

I added a splash or two of cream, two spoonfuls of ricotta, two spoonfuls of the liquid guanciale fat, two spoonfuls of pasta water, some salt, some pepper, a dash of nutmeg. After draining the liquid from the pasta, I chopped the pea shoots into one or two inch pieces, and tossed them into the saute pan. The key to cooking with pea shoots is to not wilt them -just warm them up. Throw them in at the last minute and the heat of the food will do that. I stirred the whole mixture, quite sloppily, together and grated some parmigiano on top.


All in all, I think it came out pretty well, although I have some after eating thoughts. The first thing is more shoots -I wanted more shoots in the dish, yet I cut pretty conservatively at the farm because I am hoping for a few snap peas. The second is the ricotta, which I added haphazardly, and I think the dish could do without, or maybe just one spoonful. And lastly, the mushrooms: When I sampled the oyster mushrooms, I thought they were quite strong and opted for a greater hen to oyster ratio, but after cooked, the oysters lent a woodsy flavor and the hens seemed overwhelmed. Its possible that the dairy overwhelmed all of them and would consider making this with olive oil and butter, omitting the cream altogether. 

One final thought about eating pea greens (shoots). Eating the tendrils raw, they are tender and easy to eat. However, I find that when you cook them, they toughen up just a bit.  With this in mind, my recommendation is to cut the tendrils to one inch or less in length when cooking them, while leaving the leaves, flowers, and branches larger. Or you can simply remove the tendrils altogether, snacking on those while you cook.


Showers And Flowers



The front yard garden is awfully lush, and a little late, spurring what should be a fabulous late May flowering. I'm glad for the last couple days of rain because it creates a rich sense of spring and intensity of growth.

The allium prepare.

Tradescantia bloom.

Something nips the bud of grandma's rose.

And our resident invasive makes a show of it.

The chive doth bloom.

And the iris peak.

The hosta leaf out and Star-of-Bethlehem, Ornithogalum umbellatum, shines on.


Dinner With WNYC


The last thing I ever intended for this blog was to talk about food or cooking. To be fair, I began blogging with aesthetic gardening, flower gardening, with nothing of the vegetable kind, in mind. Since then, I began reading what others were saying around their gardens, and of that became an awareness of the accord between the garden and the kitchen.  It may be hard to believe, but I never gave that much thought, and most often saw the produce of any vegetable garden I have tended as a source of fresh vegetables to eat uncooked, there in the patch. 

But all this has changed, hasn't it? I am now a dedicated foodie, a forager, a farmer, my kitchen a forum for fresh and fancy foods? No, not really. Although I have a few tricks up my sleeve, my meal palette is actually quite limited, and my time for cooking quite the same. But the media does like talk of food way more than gardening, enough so that garden talk has become the preamble to food discussion. And I suppose that makes sense, especially as we talk of vegetable, ahem -food, gardening.

This Thursday I'll head down to the WNYC studios to record 20 minutes of talk with Amy Eddings about gardening peas, and more specifically pea shoots, and maybe some chat about city vegetable gardening, garden blogging, and community gardening. I hope to figure out a way to drop the word artist and frankmeuschke.com in there somewhere, maybe as a .exe, one that surreptitiously opens only after the 20 minutes has been edited down to the broadcast five. In preparation, I'm constructing statements on the confluence of painting and gardening.

As it so happens, I have had WNYC over for dinner once before, several years ago. My family's turkey stuffing was on the table, and Leonard Lopate and Ruth Reichl were guests. Ruth, editor of the now defunct Gourmet magazine, mentioned that the recipe had reminded her of polpettone. If you were listening, you may have heard the crickets, because I had no idea what that was and had little interest in admitting to my ignorance (until now, apparently). So, like everyone else, I looked it up online afterward, to find it's essentially meatloaf, Italian style, albeit more interesting than your average American loaf of ketchup, onions, and ground beef.

This time my guests would like to have pea shoots for dinner and I've harvested just enough to experiment with a pasta recipe before my appearance on Thursday. Of course, my instinct is to relate how delicious it is to eat them raw, snipped right off the plant, washing optional. After that, wouldn't one want to have it in a salad with the slightly bitter and snappy fresh greens also harvested now, a dash of olive oil and lemon, salt, and pepper? Those really are the first things to talk about and two things I've already eaten this spring. A way to eat cooked pea shoots is in a simple stir fry, which I made the first time I ate pea shoots several years ago, after I bought a rubber-banded bunch for one dollar from Hmong farmers at the Minneapolis Farmers' Market.

Pea shoots are sweet, a little nutty, distinctively pea, but without it's starchiness. They go well with earthy, woodsy ingredients, so I went to the farmers' market on Cortelyou to pick up cultivated mushrooms more exciting than the usual baby browns I can get around the corner -but those would work, too, in a pinch of any kind. The yellow and gray oysters were 7.99 a half pound and the hen of the woods was the same. My brown paper bagful cost me ten even. Dry, fresh mushrooms are fairly light-weighted and you'll get your money's worth in flavor.

I went to Caputos on Court to pick up some guanciale, fresh ricotta cheese, parmigiano, pecorino toscano, fresh pasta (out of pappardelle, out of fettuccine, had to settle for linguine), and ravioli. I bought the "wrong" ravioli, and left that out of the evening's exploration, saved for Wednesday when I will cook them with farmers' market asparagus and the remaining mushrooms. The guanciale is a cured, but not smoked pig jowl, a delicately textured "bacon," that reminds Betsy of flavors somewhere between turkey skin and pancetta.

Wild garlic, Allium vineale, has a very earthy flavor, with subtle hints of garlic and shallot. I foraged these from the fields at the beach farm on Saturday, clipped the roots and stems, peeled the first layer of skin, washing thoroughly, and chopped. You can find wild garlic in most any woods or unmowed field right now in the metro area.

I have been growing peas in house as well as at the farm. Those on the right are cut from mature, beach farm plants, earning them the right to be called shoots, as opposed to the sprouts seen on the left. There may be some confusion about which should be called shoots on the web, but there is no doubt in my mind about which is which. Recently sprouted peas should be called sprouts, while mature vegetation cut for eating can be called shoots, but should be called pea greens to save from any confusion. Don't confuse pea sprouts with mung bean sprouts, which are an entirely different food.

The field grown pea shoots are robust, leafy, and with flowers -a mouthful of fresh pea flavor.

The in house sprouts are similarly flavored, although I expected them to be less so, and slightly more tender, but without flowers, and an altogether different eating experience because of their diminutive size.

I sliced the guanciale, pronounced gwan-chee-ah-lay, and crisped it to a light golden brown over low heat. I poured the rendered cheek fat into a bowl for later use -it's liquid flavor gold. After placing the the guanciale on the side, I placed a couple of pats of unsalted butter in the pan and softened the wild garlic. Then I cut up some of the mushrooms, which were very clean and required no washing (nice! no water), and tossed them in. Meanwhile the salted water was boiling and ready to receive the fresh pasta.

I added a splash or two of cream, two spoonfuls of ricotta, two spoonfuls of the liquid guanciale fat, two spoonfuls of pasta water, some salt, some pepper, a dash of nutmeg. After draining the liquid from the pasta, I chopped the pea shoots into one or two inch pieces, and tossed them into the saute pan. The key to cooking with pea shoots is to not wilt them -just warm them up. Throw them in at the last minute and the heat of the food will do that. I stirred the whole mixture, quite sloppily, together and grated some parmigiano on top.


All in all, I think it came out pretty well, although I have some after eating thoughts. The first thing is more shoots -I wanted more shoots in the dish, yet I cut pretty conservatively at the farm because I am hoping for a few snap peas. The second is the ricotta, which I added haphazardly, and I think the dish could do without, or maybe just one spoonful. And lastly, the mushrooms: When I sampled the oyster mushrooms, I thought they were quite strong and opted for a greater hen to oyster ratio, but after cooked, the oysters lent a woodsy flavor and the hens seemed overwhelmed. Its possible that the dairy overwhelmed all of them and would consider making this with olive oil and butter, omitting the cream altogether. 

One final thought about eating pea greens (shoots). Eating the tendrils raw, they are tender and easy to eat. However, I find that when you cook them, they toughen up just a bit.  With this in mind, my recommendation is to cut the tendrils to one inch or less in length when cooking them, while leaving the leaves, flowers, and branches larger. Or you can simply remove the tendrils altogether, snacking on those while you cook.



The Corner


One of the several late nights of the last week, I walked down our sidewalk to notice our neighbor standing outside after 2 am. I thought it was odd. As it turns out, the next morning I notice him out once again, with broom, and his chain-link mashed down. Betsy filled me in.

Maybe it's obvious, but for the telling, a car had plowed into the corner opposite my side yard garden. My neighbor plants vegetables and herbs there, and she had just finished bird-netting the whole thing to keep the neighborhood gang of cats out. But it wasn't enough to keep out a car. This scenario is one of our most talked about corner topics. The cars zoom down the one way street and never even notice the stop sign, just plow through the intersection with the other street, which has no stop sign. I see dozens of cars do the same thing. I imagine them swerving in my direction, hitting the light pole which will slam down on me like a falling tree. The other day I was crossing, a large black car was zooming down, and I stopped and put my hand out, in that traffic cop manner, yelling stop sign, and the guy begrudgingly stops mid-intersection, then rolls down his window and spits out "You got a suicide wish." It's time for the DOT and their crawling bureaucracy to get involved. Or maybe I'll paint STOP on the road one night.

Meanwhile in the side yard, a shady nook moment.

The repotted sage has decided to bloom for the first time, and I've decided to let it.


Our NYC Weeds: part 2



Welcome to the weed atlas!

The Weed Atlas compiled here is hardly complete and subject to review and update. I'm including those weeds that I find here in New York City -in yards, in the cracks of sidewalks, in parks, on piers. NYC enjoys most of the weeds common to eastern North America, so that if you find yourself here and the weed you are trying to identify is in, say Clearfield, PA or Springfield, MA, the atlas may still be of use to you.

Many of us get online now when we want to identify something, and that is no less true for the weeds in our yards. For years I depended on the book Northwest Weeds as my weed ID source because no proper book had been published for the Northeast. Today, that is no longer the case, so that some of what I publish here has been cross-referenced with the excellent Weeds of the Northeast by Uva, Neal, and DiTomaso.

Deciding what is a weed and what is not is a fool's errand. But for the sake of limits, I define weeds to be those plants that grow of their own accord in areas disturbed by the activities of humankind, and are, by my definition, regionally and often globally, ubiquitous. Some weeds can also be distinguished as invasive, although not always alien, to a region. Weeds go wherever we do.

The atlas follows in alphabetical order, with the botanical name first when I can accurately state it. All listings have at least one photo, which can often be clicked on for a larger image to help in identification. Each listing will also provide a link to another site with broader description and more photos to further your research. Some of the plants listed are noted as edible, but please don't eat anything unless you have positively identified and properly prepared it.


WEEDS OF NYC

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Achillea millefolium, Common Yarrow, Milfoil, or Field Yarrow


Common Yarrow is a perennial plant often associated with old cultivated fields and sometimes lawns. If it is mowed, it can form mats of fine foliage close to the ground. Of course, field yarrow is related to the garden Yarrow, bu its flowers are generally white, sometimes with a pinkish tinge, and its foliage is very finely cut. Garden Yarrow has been bred to have many colors and in some varieties, soft gray foliage. I grow both kinds in my garden, but beware, the field Yarrow spreads rampantly.

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Ailanthus altissima, Tree of Heaven

Young tree, often found growing on fencelines and in pavement cracks.

Ailanthus will grow almost anywhere, roofs, windowsills, cracks in pavement. It has an extremely aggressive nature and is incredibly resistant to permanent removal. I once removed a concrete pad from a backyard in Brooklyn. Underneath this old concrete, hundreds of little ailanthus roots just waiting for the right opportunity. Can be taken out, but requires perseverance. Often confused with Sumac. Below are two photos, ailanthus on the right, sumac on the left. The ailanthus will get much taller than the sumac. The sumac has deep red, upright seed heads, the ailanthus drooping pale yellow seed clusters.

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Alliaria petiolata, Garlic Mustard

Garlic mustard.

I spied thousands of Alliaria petiolata or 'Garlic Mustard' plants and hundreds of Hesperis matronalis or 'Dame's Rocket' from a Metro North train window. I saw several good looking clumps of Garlic Mustard in Cadman Plaza Park this spring, where I pulled some leaves and crumpled them in my hands to catch the faint, slow release of garlic scent they're named for.

Dame's rocket -also a mustard.

A relative of these is a cottage garden favorite, the cultivated Dame's Rocket, as seen here in a garden I know. I first became aware of the mustards when I lived in southern New Mexico -it was the plant growing along all the ditches in winter. Mustards tend to be cool weather biennials, and in our region that means you'll see then green up and flower in spring.

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Amaranthus spp., Pigweed


Amaranth comes in many forms, some weeds, some culitvated for their leaves, roots, seeds or for ornamental uses. There is a woman who comes by late spring into summer pulling the amaranth from the fence line along the sidewalk to eat, I presume. I assume she understands that local dogs pee on local fences. There are several varieties of this plant and easy to misidentify within the species (see all these forms of A. retroflexus). All have the telltale inflorescence, although with variations in length, bushiness and color. It is an annual plant that tolerates dry conditions. Pull it up early and don't let it go to seed as the thousands of seeds per plant can last up to thirty years in the soil.

Amaranth gone to seed.

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Ambrosia artemisiifolia, Common Ragweed

Common Ragweed. Too many people think that this is not the culprit for their allergies, yet it is. Flowering at the same time as Goldenrod, showy Goldenrod often gets the blame. Even allergy pill commercials seem to show yellow flowering plants in their scenes.


Ambrosia is a mystery to me, but artemisiifolia refers to the leaf structure which is similar to many Artemesia plants like the mugwort found one entry below this one. To some the foliage looks like that of French marigold.


The stems of Ragweed are reddish and highly pubescent -meaning there is hair.

Ragweed flowering stems shoot straight up, sometimes leaning over. From above they look mostly green with hard to see flowers.

How do you know that Ragweed is responsible for your allergies? The flowers all face the ground. Flowers that face the ground are less likely to attract pollen-spreading insects like bees and flies. Flowers that are bright and yellow, facing outward like Goldenrod are insect pollinated. Ground-facing flowers depend on the swaying and shaking caused by the wind. This same wind picks up the pollen as it drops out of the flower, spreading it several feet or yards or miles. Ragweed is wind pollinated, and that, my friends, is something to sneeze at.

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Artemisia vulgaris, Mugwort

Artemisia vulgaris is the weed of our metropolitan life. This is the plant that greens brownfields, empty lots, roadsides, and overpass embankments. One summer along the waterfront in Williamsburg, I witnessed thousands upon thousands of lady bugs crawling over the practical monoculture of mugwort growing there. All that red and green, quite amazing.

Some people confuse this plant's young growth with Chrysanthemum. Please don't. The underside of the Mugwort's leaves are fuzzy and light gray, and its foliage aromatic. The leaves become thinner and elongated as the plant matures and its flowers are inconspicuous. Mugwort is perennial and spreads via vigorous rhizomes -so pull, pull, pull or enjoy the greenery. I have noticed one sidewalk garden in Red Hook that seems to have struck a fine balance between their perennials and the mugwort.

At flowering maturity, mugwort will take on this appearance -rangy with small lanceolate leaves, and flowers.

Mugwort flowers up close.

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Asclepias syriaca, Common Milkweed

Milkweed jumps out thanks to its broad, fleshy leaves with pubescent undersides, mass of flowers, and erect habit in fields and meadows. A native to North America east of the Rockies, it is only considered a weed in disturbed areas like old farm fields by crabby old farmers. It likes sandy soil and is common amongst the community garden plots in Ft. Tilden.

The leaves have a light gray pubescence on the underside.

Asclepias syriaca exudes a milky sap when any part is torn and is a favorite of the Monarch Butterfly in its larval stage. Milkweed is known to produce useful fibers, and its young shoots, buds, and flowers are edible when cooked. But do not confuse it with the Dogbanes, which look very similar if you are not looking closely.

Apocynum cannabinum, Indian Hemp or Hemp Dogbane. Notice its reddish stems and different flowering character. Indian Hemp will produce a milky sap just like Milkweed.

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Celastrus orbiculatus, Oriental Bittersweet

In summer the vine is green with small cream-colored spots. In autumn, the vine hardens and darkens.

Late autumn berries, commonly used for wreaths.

Oriental Bittersweet, native to eastern Asia, loves fence rows. I first came across this vine on the stockade type fence around our backyard and you'll probably find it on chain links just like the one above. The berries hang on long and are a favorite of birds, so despite their good looks, if you want it gone, get it before it sets fruit. Just make sure it's not the native variety, American Bittersweet, Celastrus scandens, by checking out this great ID document. The decorative possibilities of the vine in late autumn are well known, but selling it live or cut is illegal in some states. No wonder it's 'bittersweet.'

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Chenopodium album, Lamb's Quarters, also Pigweed

Mature plant, streetside.

The 'goosefoot' name refers to its leaf shape.

Chenopodium (the name: cheno-goose, podium-foot describes the leaf shape) is commonly known as Lamb's Quarters. Some call it Pigweed, confusing it with the Amaranthus species. The common name may hold water however, it seems taxonomists may be changing the Chenopodiaceae classification to Amaranthaceae. This weed grows everywhere in the city and is a common weed from my childhood yard. Drought, sandy soil, and compacted earth are favorite locations for this plant. It can stay compact and bushy, yet sometimes is open and willowy . Young leaves are eaten in salads or cooked and some make a meal out of the seeds -in this way it is similar to amaranth. I like it for its intense magenta leaves often found half way up the plant.

Mature lamb's quarters with magenta leaves at its base.

Fruit in later summer.

Magenta fruit in autumn.

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Cynanchum nigrum, Swallowwort

This one's called Swallowwort, cause it'll swallow anything in its path.

The fascinating flower, not quite black, more dark plum colored.

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Commelina communis, Asiatic Dayflower

The Commelina species here is the non-native, asiatic variety. There are a few tell-tale traits to divine the two, which you can see here. Here in NYC, you probably have Commelina Communis. Its called Dayflower because the flowers are with us only for a day. Its quite a beauty and I let it be in corners of the garden. It spreads, like other plants in the Spiderwort family, but this Dayflower is easy to pull once it sprouts up.

Dayflower with a common growing companion, Smartweed.

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Draba verna, Whitlow Grass



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Erigeron philadelphicus, Common Fleabane

This specimen sprouted in early spring in my Brooklyn garden. It began blooming in mid-May. Fleabane is native to these parts, and belongs to the great family of Asteraceae.

It has a pleasing form until flowering, at which time the leaves begin to yellow and the stems get wily.

Pretty, pinkish-white daisy-type flowers. Is it the bane of fleas? I hope I'll never know.

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Fallopia japonica, Japanese Knotweed

Attractive plants make successful weeds.

The heart shaped leaves on young red stems give it away.

Don't let those quaint and attractive leaves of the young Japanese Knotweed fool you -the bottom photo shows how large these can get when not attended to. An attractive herbaceous perennial, it escaped garden cultivation years ago to become a major weed of wetlands, roadsides and yards. The specimen above grows in a fence row in my Brooklyn neighborhood, and has sent its rhizomes to the sidewalk strip adjacent to it where it grows a similar height each year. Persistent, one must continually remove rhizomes, roots and stems. The young shoots are edible, making spring pulling more tolerable.

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Hedera helix, English Ivy

 
English ivy scrambling up trees and across the ground in Prospect Park.

Hedera helix may not be a weed to many, and I don't always consider it a weed myself. But this plant does escape and does get out of control. I think we may have all seen at least one tree with this plant growing all over it. For the many who have shady spots in front of or behind their homes, this has been the answer to concrete. However, there are many different varieties - so choose one that is attractive and less invasive. To remove, simply pull it up. It roots from cuttings of the vine, so remember to pick up the pieces.

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Lamium purpureum, Purple Dead Nettle

Purple Dead Nettle is common in fallow fields, disturbed areas, and even lawns. This specimen was found in a community garden plot in late March, having sprouted after the plot laid fallow over winter. It's similar to garden Lamium and a quick spreading ground cover.

Its flowers are attractive to bees because it blooms profusely when little else does. You'll often find Purple Dead Nettle blooming near a common look-alike, Henbit.

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Lamium amplexicaule, Henbit

Henbit will bloom during cool weather, just like its cousin, Dead Nettle, and you'll often find them side by side, possibly confusing them because of their purple flowers. Henbit has a tap root, so pull when the soil is wet for greater effectiveness. Apparently the name Henbit reveals how chickens like to snack on some part of the plant, and some say it is an edible spring green for those folks not too chicken to eat it.

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Linaria vulgaris, Butter and Eggs

This nice specimen of Linaria vulgaris was found on a fence line at the sidewalk's edge in Red Hook, Brooklyn. Likes well drained soil, so I suppose a demolished building's old site will do. Butter and eggs refers to the coloring of the flowers, but this lovely weed has dozens of colloquial names.


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Malva neglecta, Common Mallow

Mallow leaf.
Malva neglecta is a common roadside, lawn, and garden plant. It belongs to the large family of Mallows that includes Hollyhocks, Swamp Rose, even cotton. Some call Common Mallow by the name "cheeses" due to its round cheese-wheel like fruit. The flowers range from white to pink to purple and are often quite attractive, no doubt aiding this plant's success in some yards. To pull it, you should soak the ground first as it has a tough taproot. Apparently it has edible leaves and roots and a long association with humans.

Mallow patch.

Mallow flower.

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Oxalis stricta, Yellow Wood Sorrel

Yellow Wood Sorrel is one of those North American natives that is also native to Europe and Asia. It's therefore ubiquitous and most often considered a weed. It's often confused with, or called, clover because of its trifoliate leaves. Apparently edible in limited quantities, with a somewhat lemony flavor.

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Phytolacca americana, Pokeweed, Pokeberry or Poke

Pokeweed bush.

Phytolacca americana is native to the continent. As a kid, I used to let the pokeweed grow real tall in our backyard and then harvest the stalk, drying it in the sun for a week. Afterwards I made spears with the woody and straight stalks. Us kids also made "wine" and dye with the berries. We never drank that wine because I guess we intuited that this was a bad idea. And of course, it is a bad idea because all of this plant is poisonous. However, it was common to boil the young greens in the American South. You may still be able to buy cans of it down there.

Pokeweed in a can.

Poke berries are loved by many birds. While this plant is perennial, it also propagates via seeds dropping from all those birds. Pull to remove from the garden, but leave some in the more wild parts for the birds. I find pokeweed to be attractive, but that may be just nostalgia for my early years showing its influence.

 
Pokeweed leaves, berries and rose-colored stems.

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Plantago lanceolata, Ribwort Plantain, Narrowleaf Plantain

Basal rosette.

Mature flowering plant.

Flowers.

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Plantago major, Common Plantain, Broadleaf Plantain

Single plantain with seed stalk.

A patch of plantain.

Pantago major is one of the most common weeds of roadsides, lawns, and pathways. This plant will grow in wet or dry compacted soil, areas little else can. There are native species of this plant in the area, but if it's in your garden it is likely to be this one. Best method for eradication is to pull it after a good soaking rain and keep your soil aerated. Or live with it as this plant has a history of herbal usage.

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Polygonum caespitosum, Long-bristled Smartweed, Oriental Lady's Thumb, Smartweed

There are several native and non-native forms of Polygonum and some are very invasive. The one we most commonly find in our gardens is Polygonum caespitosum. As I stated in Our Weeds, part 1, I often leave this weed in the garden for its ability to fill blanks with its attractive foliage and pink flowers. It self-sows abundantly so that there is never a shortage of plants. The young plants are distinctive and easy to pull.

A good sized patch of Smartweed.

It can be a nice garden plant -for a weed.

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Rumex acetosella, Red Sorrel or Sheep Sorrel

I think Red Sorrel is really good-looking in a field of grass, where it is likely you'll find it. It is also found on other disturbed areas like roadsides or brownfields. It tolerates poor drainage and acid soils. If you have it, dealing with those conditions may be part of the mitigation process. Apparently it has a strong sour taste and has been known to be fatal to sheep.

Red Sorrel.

Red Sorrel flowers are sometimes more yellow.

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Rumex crispus, Curly Dock

This stand of Curly Dock has been getting stronger by the year. I think we lose neighbors to it. It may eat people.

Aphids enjoying the succulent stems of Curly Dock.

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Silene latifolia (alba), White Campion

White Campion is an attractive, flowering weed of pastures, meadows, and other weed-filled places. Maybe you don't want to pull it, but if you do, it has a tap root. Wet the soil thoroughly first to make the pulling easier.

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Tragopogon dubius, Western Salsify


You might think Western Salsify is a giant dandelion. Common throughout the West, it is making inroads into the drier parts of our area.

Dandelion-like seed head can be up to 6 inches across.

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Trifolium repens, White Clover


Trifolium repens is a part of the Pea family of plants, and one of many Trifolium (clover) species including Red Clover and Hop Clover. If you do a web search of the word clover you'll get equal parts how to kill it in your lawn and how to grow it in your lawn. Either way you have it, clover is an introduced species commonly used as forage for livestock and honey production. White Clover is a perennial, spreading over ground and rooting at its stem nodes. Pull it or leave it. It does form patches, though some like it more than grass.


A community of white clover.

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Trifolium pratense, Red Clover

Red Clover is much like the white clover, but more upright and typically larger. It is often found in old farm fields and roadsides.

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Veronica persica, Persian Speedwell, Birdseye Speedwell.


I found this specimen of Persian Veronica in an athletic field in Red Hook, growing at a bland time of the year, maybe late March. I yanked it up and planted it in a barren spot underneath a rose. Now it cannot be stopped, but is easy to pull should it go too far.

Flower.
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Sunday Evening, Monday Morning


On Sunday evening Betsy and I went to visit Marie at  66 Square Feet! It looks as charming and lush in person as it does in her photos. If you've read her blog, you know she loves food, and this woman can cook, with range, which I have an eye for because my own cooking is decidedly without, and I won't go on without saying that we ate very well.

I didn't want to show up an empty-handed gardener, so I brought some of my potted-up tomato starts. She graciously offered some of her seriously everbearing strawberries in return, which you see below. I miss picking wild summertime strawberries in the old farm fields of Maine and Marie's bloggins had once again wet my appetite for having them close at hand.

We probably kept Marie and Vince up way to late for a Sunday (or any day, old man that I am). Upon returning home, I hopped the fence to put the new strawberry with the other herbs, and what did I find? None other than a gray tabby cat round sleeping in my pot of thyme! I had to wake the darn thing before it even noticed me -get out of there I hollered. Nothing worse than thyme sprigs full of fine, wavy cat hairs, I put Marie's strawberry pot in the thyme pot to keep the cat from returning.

In all the fuss I broke one of the iris buds, which then became the first to bloom indoors, in a ball jar.

The next morning I went out to check on everything. Overnight, I hadn't even noticed that the iris had opened. Their scent is citrus, vanilla, a hint of passionfruit? Chocolate? I'm still working on the scent bouquet thing.

And the Johnsons Blue geranium is blooming too, a little less blue to me than violet, or periwinkle, with blue tinge on the fringe.



Trimming Your Aster



I learned awhile back about clipping asters from a neighbor who's own always seemed to be completely under her control. I wouldn't have ever known if I hadn't spied her cutting them. 

Each year the time to consider clipping might be different. This year, it's quite early. I've clipped my taller asters, those above 16 inches, back to about 13-14 inches. No matter the height, consider reducing clipping back by 15-20 percent. Doing this will promote more flowering, as clipping can with so many plants, because you cut the dominant growth tips (apical meristem), allowing many side stems to grow. Aside from bushier plants with more flowering buds, it also keeps the plants a bit shorter, and less likely to flop as far when heavy with flowers in the fall.

You can be graceful or rough about the clipping. I tend toward the middle.

All the asters that are quick to get tall get this treatment. This includes the New England asters, the perennial sunflowers, and even goldenrod -Solidago.

This aster, at 8 inches tall, isn't grown enough for clipping. Maybe in late May or early June. Here in New York City, I wouldn't clip after late June. At that late date, you will weaken the plant, invite disease, and limit formation of flowering buds. So to be safe, clip early when the plant reaches 16 inches or more.


Crabby Apples



Wasn't it just three weeks ago the crab apples looked like this?

And haven't all the trees bloomed, from the maples to the lilacs, in two or three weeks this year? 

As a form of punishment, I forced myself in the other day's rain to frogger the traffic circle. The crabs, sulking, wet with tears, because I wasn't present to see its pretty dress, had me laboring about, sopping myself in display of empathy, trying to make the best of arriving late to the party. Next year, I promise.





Chive about to bloom, a flame.

The continuation of cat deterrence. I moved the daylilies to the back, along with some asters. Both are tough and spreading, helping to keep the cats from pooping back there. When the siding guys come (it's been years in the making), I think these plants can get stepped on a lot and will still bounce back. In front -the other perennials and the mesh. Now it's clear to me -everything's the same green. Time for flowers, no?

These two herbs have never survived a winter in my garden -until this winter. Snow cover, snow cover, snow cover saved last year's (now this year's) parsley and rosemary.

Every plant suffers some underneath the dry shade of the yew tree. But the monkshood, Aconitum, is just loving it, growing bigger every year. The phlox and lilies don't complain much either. I think I'm finally getting this side yard figured out.



Pot Up




The great pot up. Every over-wintered herb has been split up and repotted. About half the tomatoes had their quarters up-sized. The rest need to wait for more containers.


Midwood Pick-Up



I'm reposting Marie's (66sqft fame) post on her efforts to pick up the trash in the woods of Prospect Park. Please read, and consider the chance to meet gardening bloggers in the morning, in the woods, with trash bags and grabbers in hand.




Save the Date - Litter Mob!

Tuesday, 10 May, 9am, Midwood, Prospect Park: corner of Center Drive and East Drive

From Eric Landau, Director of Government and Community Affairs for the Prospect Park Alliance:

"I am pleased to report back to you that we have made arrangements for you and any additional volunteers you can recruit to work with members of our Natural Resources Crew (NRC) in the Midwood.  We would like to schedule this for Tuesdays at 9am and are available to start on Tuesday, May 10th.  Please meet John Jordan from the NRC at the corner of Center Drive and East Drive by the Midwood at 9am.  We will provide trash grabbers, garbage bags and gloves.  Please let me know in advance how many people you expect to join you, so that we can provide enough supplies."

Because it has been scheduled for a Tuesday, I am appealing to all freelancers, trust fund beneficiaries, starving artists, incredibly successful artists, retired persons, and Those with Interesting Schedules to show up on the 10th and pick up, at the end of a nice long stick, used condoms, wet wipes, bottles, chip packets and whatever else we find.

It'll be fun! 

Bloggers -please reblog or put out the word (with my email, see below).


Seriously. Broaching the subject of the nature of some of the litter found in these woods makes people in positions of offialdom jumpy. So I am very pleased that we have this opportunity to go and clean up somebody else's mess.

I am not from a country of deciduous forest. I grew up with grasslands and then moved to fynbos. Each is spectacular and unique, but lacks the Northern romance of the falling leaf, the greening branch, the winter silhouette. I care about these woods in the park, a memory in the enormous city of what this land once was, before the grid. They are beautiful and I would like to help keep them clean. And cannot do it alone.


This is the first time a group has targeted this area, and Vince and I will show up regularly. We are hoping that others who love these woods and care about the park will pitch in and help. We might be able to work out a weekend day if a weekday proves untenable.


Please RSVP for this glorious walk-in-the-woods-with-benefits, so that there will be a nice set of gloves and grabber waiting for you.

marieyviljoen   at   gmail     dot    com

The giveaway (Fine: bribe):

I will be giving away a copy of Stephen Orr's new Tomorrow's Garden (Rodale, 2011), to the third caller, er, emailer who RSVPs (and shows up!). The book is worth it for the beautiful photographs alone (I confess I go for pictures, rather than text when looking for garden inspiration). Which is good in this case because the text in the book is preternaturally small, with some sidebar exceptions - perhaps a budget consideration? Smaller text, smaller book, but it is a pity. That notwithstanding there are some wonderful gardens and fresh ideas in it, including the Gowanus Garden! I told Stephen about it two years ago when we helped judge the Greenest Block. Seems he visited...Also in the pages, vegetables, raspberries, lawnless lawns, the real story behind gravel, chickens (of course) and some good ideas.  He writes very well. Just invest in a magnifying glass.

For more about the Prospect Park (and its litter) here are some previous posts: