birds

A Box To Build A Dream On

/ Kevin / 38 Comments

Birdhouse

A box arrived in the mail the other day — and this is the story of that box and all that it holds.

On Monday nights, I participate in a Twitter conversation called Garden Chat — a very large, hour-long cyber get-together with gardeners from all over. Usually someone hosts the chat, which means that person organizes a theme and related gardening questions. Those questions are tweeted and answered, and those answers are read and retweeted and favorited by all of the participants.

At the same time, there are smaller side conversations — sharing new flower and harvest photos, tweeting tips and words of encouragement, and, of course, laughing.

It’s not unusual for there to be a giveaway during these chats — simply leave a comment attached to the giveaway tweet and you’re entered.  At the end of the chat, a winner is randomly selected and announced.

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Scenes From A Sunday Afternoon

/ Kevin / 16 Comments

Grackles

It’s been a week since a flock of grackles descended in the trees around my home and unleashed a hailstorm of acorns.  I have since learned that acorns are one of the species’ culinary favorites, especially as the iridescent birds begin their migration south.

That being said, they aren’t very neat or efficient eaters.  In fact, I don’t think the ’80s band A Flock of Seagulls could have caused this much of a mess in their hotel room, not even during the height of their popularity.

Seven days since their arrival — that’s seven days filled with more grackles, squirrels, and wind — the driveway and path looked as if they were the end-result of some slapstick comedy routine — you know, the one where an innocent passerby (me, for example) slips on some casually placed marbles (or acorns, as the case may be), so that the prankster (or grackle) can have a few laughs.

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Summertime Sadness & Wonder

/ Kevin / 20 Comments

The hydrangea blooms are fading away.

Hydrangea blooms fading away.

I stepped outside this morning and I could see my breath.  Clearly, summer left the building — or at the very least, it left the garden.  Almost immediately, I began singing Lana Del Rey’s smash, “Summertime Sadness” — or, rather, just the chorus: “I’ve got that summertime, summertime sadness, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh.”

I’ve actually been a little melancholy over the past few days.  Maybe it was the 9/11 anniversary.  Maybe it’s the start of another school year.  And maybe it does have to do with the change in weather.  While the cooler weather signals the time to clean and store terra cotta pots, elephant ears, and canna — as well as myself — for the winter months, there is something else on my mind.

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Field Trip: A Greenhouse Hopes To Grow In Brooklyn

/ Kevin / 19 Comments

There is nothing quite like humidity in New York.  With its density and weight, it has a presence – and it likes to make its presence known, often making the blacktop-enhanced summertime heat seem that much more oppressive. 

And that kind of weather is perfect for a car-subway-walk field trip.  The idea was inspired by a recent article in the New York Times which focused on the Greenwood Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn, and its historic cemetery.

Situated on 478 acres, Green-Wood Cemetery was founded in the 1830s and is now the final resting place for more than 550,000 souls: politicians, soldiers, actors, dancers, freed slaves, designers, and journalists among them.  At one point in the 1850s, the cemetery, with path after path named after plants, even rivaled Niagara Falls as a tourist destination.

On this very hot and very humid day, there are few visitors approaching the ornate gateway.  The sedum in the iron birdbath seems to enjoy the heat, but the big-leafed coleus is much more content in the shade of the enormous archway.

The only noise is the squawks from above.  The bird call sounds familiar but out of place in Brooklyn – but there, nesting in the center spire of the gate, is a flock of parrots.

Just across from the cemetery’s main entrance are the remains of a wood-and-glass greenhouse. 

The greenhouse once belonged to James Weir, Jr., who had also built more than 20 other greenhouses and nurseries throughout Brooklyn.  In 1971, the McGovern family, also in the florist industry, bought the property.

Over the decades, the greenhouse, now considered a landmark as the only Victorian-era greenhouse still standing in New York, has fallen into disrepair, with peeling paint, rotting wood, crumbling foundations, and missing and broken panes of glass.  A year ago, however, Green-Wood cemetery purchased the greenhouse and is in the process of turning it into a visitors’ center.  And so, this relic now sits behind security gates, waiting to be reborn.

I’m not sure how long this agave has been here, but I like to think that as I look through the hazy glass, I am looking at the ghost of a plant from long ago.

Next Post: The Brooklyn walking tour continues with views from the bridge and a parade of window boxes.

  

 

A Bird In The Head Is Worth. . .

/ Kevin / 25 Comments

A lot has been written here and on other blogs about the peace and tranquility of gardening.   But let me tell you, there’s some stress growing out there.  Am I watering too much or not enough?  Too much sun?  Just how dappled should dappled shade be?  Who will water while I’m away? 

And if that weren’t enough worries to cloud my sunny day, now it’s this.  There is a bird’s nest in one of the white pines that line the back of my property.  Very early in my gardening life, I realized that I was creating my own ecosystem.  As soon as everything bloomed, it seemed my yard became a resort for butterflies and bees and even a praying mantis.

But now there is a bird’s nest.  Blue Jays to be exact.  What’s surprising is that the nest is only about 7 feet off the ground, so Joe and I can get a pretty clear look at the goings on.  And if we can, so too can the local varmints.  Now, I’m on guard for any intruders.  I am like a mother hen, although I haven’t quite perfected the whole regurgitation of food thing.  But when Mom and Dad are away gathering food for the youngins, I feel obligated to bird sit.

I happen to like birds.  I especially like hearing them when I spend some time in the yard in the early morning hours.  But if truth be told, I’m also a little bit edgy around them.  I wouldn’t call it a fear of birds — it’s more like a fear of getting hit in the head with one.  I can hear you saying, “Kevin, how common can that be?”  In my world, it’s pretty common.  My head has been a bird target — not a bird poop target, but an actual bird target — three times!

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