Reba and Dave Williams Collection, Gift of Reba and Dave Williams
Welcome to tiny gardens. I start out with a little horticultural essay for you, and then get into what I’ve been reading and working on this month.
If you want to: get anything done, work with other people, have fun
What you will need: to release control, gifts you didn’t order yourself
Yesterday, I went to the community garden to reluctantly plant some small shade-tolerant Ajuga reptans. My mom, who is a certified master gardener, sent them to me after visiting earlier this month. The garden has many advantages in the community-building department: a stage, a gazebo, connections to the local high school. It has big trees, which are relaxing to sit under, but block light at the ground level. My mom saw the bare middle garden bed and took pity on me, the Plant Committee Chairwoman. She sent me plants she knew would thrive in near darkness. I called her and grumbled that they weren’t native like the ungrateful grump that I am, and she agreed they were not.
I had wanted to do research on old New York forests and their floors. What do the local decomposers love? (I know earthworms are not native here). Are there any flowers that feed a struggling moth species? I planted wildflowers in the early spring, hoping for bees and butterflies, but they have failed to thrive due to the lack of light. Since then, I have started a new job and had some (not life-threatening but incredibly time-consuming) health problems, so I haven’t had a chance to research further. I felt ashamed about this, like I was letting down the people who use the garden: the teenagers who play rock concerts on the stage, the women who offer free wellness sessions, the artists who have turned the garden into their galleries. I want the ecological community as vibrant as the human one.
When I arrived with the small plants, someone had left about ten begonias in their nursery pots in the middle of the main garden bed. Not only are begonias not native to the U.S., they don’t love full shade. I planted the Ajuga reptans from my mom and looked at the wilting begonias, their little red flowers quickly fading in the heat. I positioned them in the outer bed, with as much mottled sunshine as they could get.
The garden was parched, so I started giving it a good soak. I got about eight mosquito bites before realizing that someone had left a mild repellant on one of the picnic tables. The begonias were perking up, and the bugleherb looked charming around the rocks. The garden had everything it needed, and so did I. I relaxed.
Things I wrote in May and June*
How big can plant crimes be? Can they be tried in the International Criminal Court? That’s the possibility I explore in my Plants in the Court of Last Resort podcast episode.
I talked about The Wardian Case: How a Simple Box Moved Plants and Changed the World by Luke Keogh with the Plant Book Club. I don’t recommend the book, but I think our conversation is a good primer on this history-changing invention.
Since I’m now covering emergency preparedness, you can find my byline on a lot of wildfire preparedness stories online and in the NYTimes paper lately. I desperately hope that they experience no surge in traffic ever.
I wrote about peat moss soil substitutes and what to do if you have a cute plant pot that doesn’t have drainage holes for my plant column.
No one tells you how to clean your retainer and/or mouthguard. I found some dental professions who spilled their minty fresh secrets.
I made a tiktok about trying to get my Venus flytrap to consume a fly.
Things I liked in May and June*
I did not publish a newsletter last month, but I did summon the time and mental energy to finish The Death and Life of Great American Cities by Jane Jacobs. Now it is all I can think or talk about. I walk around the city and see her urban design basic principles proven over and over. I also enjoyed the documentary Citizen Jane: Battle for the City, which served as a kind of epilogue to the book, since it’s about what happened after Jacobs wrote TDALOGAC. When I was telling my mom about the legendary fights between Jacobs and Moses, she asked “How did Robert Moses gain so much power?” You know what that means, kids.
In April, I visited Nashville and was weirded out by how different the music industry vibes (not chill!) were from those in Austin (pretty chill, in my experience). The book Her Country: How the Women of Country Music Became the Success They Were Never Supposed to Be confirmed all my suspicions and more. As part of this journey, I got a relevant shirt.
Pop-Up Magazine may be the TED talk of my particular demographic, but I don’t care because the stories are always so well-produced and smart. If you’ve never experienced a Pop-Up Mag “issue,” it’s a show that is supposed to replicate the best parts of a magazine (kind of like the latest Wes Anderson movie). My favorite stories from the spring show were “Among the Fireflies” and “How to Become Elvis.”
I do not drink alcohol, but I love participating in beverage culture. My friend made me a virgin jello shot for a party and it was such a funny and thoughtful thing to do. Because it’s just jello, but since it’s in a little cup I got to toast and scream and get my pinkie finger sticky with everyone else. If you’re in the same boat as me, I highly recommend Anna Perling’s guide to nonalcoholic beverages, which I have fact-checked at least once.
Wishing you a peak seasonal experience, whatever that means to you and your hemisphere. I hope you are able to experience intimate but non-romantic touch and eat food that makes you feel luxurious. Thanks for reading.
<3
Ellen
*Related to the essay: I did not publish a newsletter at the beginning of June.