Photo by myself in Red Hook, Brooklyn.
Behind a series of warehouses near the water, there is a ruined building from a different time. There's a mysterious and sculptural air about it, like a Rube Goldberg contraption.
There's a community garden a few streets from us in Park Slope, Brooklyn, where members pay yearly dues to work a plot of land. People plant flowers and vegetables, landscape gardens and create little ponds with koi.
Most neighborhoods have a community garden. It seems as if there are quite a few in Red Hook for instance, for whatever reason. There are some prominent ones in the East Village, along Houston Street. You're welcome to wander off the street and walk inside, provided you stay on the paths.
As a city dweller it's great to be able to get your hands dirty or compost your food stuff. Mark and I feel like we're doing our little part.
We haven't joined the garden near us, but we're going there to compost. On weekends, we dump a week's worth of odds and ends into the bin. People are there constantly, shifting the heaps from one bin to another, then using the final, rich compost for their gardens.
Last weekend, I was in such a rush, I brought the wrong bag with me. When I emptied the bag in the bin, I was surprised to find a pair of shoes I was going to leave out on the stoop. Egad!
The woman tending the compost pile and I were both surprised. I made some sort of lame-o half-funny comment, then took the shoes and skedaddled.