This weekend I celebrated a very dear friend‘s birthday with a balmy bike ride through Brooklyn. Sweat poured down my back and pooled in the crooks of my elbows but there was a breeze…
Yesterday was my thirty-sixth birthday, which was the perfect time to daydream about a quiet evening spent fancy-free in a city garden. The soundtrack would be all spinning sprinklers and clinking flatware and laughter…
Neighbors of ours lent us the key to their back garden. Four flights down and half a block over, I make our way down a corridor, across their spotless kitchen, and out the screen…
We’ve had a cardboard banker’s box full of compost underneath our couch for the past month. A few times a day, or any time we add fresh scraps, we turn the rich dark brown…
This weekend I harvested the shoots from the microgreens that I planted three weeks ago; tiny seeds sown in a windowsill garden when George Floyd could still breathe. I was more patient with these…
I was too quick to dismiss the ubiquitous kitchen scrap gardens I’ve seen growing. With some amount of sheepishness, I admit that being urged to grow fresh celery from a spent bunch by every…
I’m very much looking forward to the day when it’s not just me and my immediate family sitting around our table. Scratch that, and forgive me, but I can’t wait to sit around the…
Time and its passing have become even more strange and amorphous than they are in the best of circumstances. It was only just the middle of winter and somehow we find ourselves nearly to…
As a child, my grandfather lived above an undertaker’s shop on West 25th Street. The building, like my grandfather, is no longer with us, but my uncle sent a photograph of it this week,…
I like things that come in neat little packages. This is not news. If there’s something that can be tidied, or corralled, or made just a little bit nicer to look at—I’ll find a…