When on the water and a storm comes up you take directions from the skipper: batten down the hatches, furl the sails, clip your safety belt to the rails, and keep non-essential deckhands down below where they will be safe.
It’s not a bad lesson to follow in these parlous times. Those of us living in New York City apartments see no one except the building staff (scrupulously sanitizing every surface, every package, every piece of mail). A friend in the same zip code as I, having abandoned restaurants, dinners with friends and almost all grocery stores, took a daily walk with me in Riverside Park.
In the city in earlier times of crisis to reassure ourselves that beauty and learning would endure, we went to the museums, libraries, and concert halls -- our secular churches. They are closed now, but we still have our parks. Open air, flowering trees, new growth on old plants – these will keep our spirits up until the world settles down again.
The importance of a park in your neighborhood cannot be overstated. There you see life at its happiest, people strolling alone or with friend and families, kids playing ball, dog walkers. The Trust for Public Land thinks everyone should have no more than a 10-minute walk to a park. At New Yorkers for Parks (full disclosure; I am a board member) we believe city budgets for the maintenance for all our parks should be increasingly generous.
The city’s small parks and public spaces are as valuable as the flagship parks and serve a critical population with little or difficult access to the flagships. All the parks, large and small, will need support so pick your park and stick with it.
As isolation increased, those who could left the city, with hope isolating themselves first so as not to carry risk. After a few weeks of mind-numbing isolation, I joined the exodus fleeing north and left for Rhinebeck, where I plan to stay for the duration. I am blessed to have a small house in a village with sidewalks, streetlights and neighbors. We meet in the street, my neighbors and I, six feet apart to exchange war stories and news of our families. There is so little traffic now we could probably bring our lawn chairs to the street.
My grandfather did this during World War II. He dragged his Adirondack chair to the edge of the front walk, close to the sidewalk, so neighbors passing by could visit and bring the latest news of sons and nephews serving on the fronts. Every neighbor had, as we did, a flag in the window with one or more blue stars for each member of the family overseas so there was a lot of news to share.
Soon it will be warm enough for my neighbors to sit in each other’s backyards. I am pushing the days. Trees and shrubs are showing buds. Witchhazel is still blooming. Forsythia almost. Daffodils and iris are beginning to emerge. Birds are at the feeders and the ones who left for warmer climates are on their way back. Soon the farmers will bring vegetables to market along with the earliest strawberries. Till then we are being cautious in supermarkets and using up our foodstuffs carefully.
For the moment we are making do, and there is some satisfaction in that. Growing up in the 40’s we all worked together for the war effort, for what we knew in our core was the common good. As children we understood rationing, that the black market was bad, that it was our job to sell defense stamps door to door, and to grow our own vegetables in our backyard Victory Gardens. So today take care of yourselves and your family and go about cultivating your own garden, whether it is real or only a metaphor.
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| The Garden |
