Repost: One Week In Two Zones


It was a gut-wrenching, heart-aching goodbye.  As we drove north on I-95, we watched spring disappear, its greens and blooms falling away with each passing mile.  And now, on a very cold spring day on Long Island, I am once again looking at a world of brown with only a few patches of green growth — a far cry from South Florida’s lush jungle.  So as I re-acclimate to my climate, I am thinking of a post from last year when I gardened in two zones in one week.  

Please, forgive me for this repost, but I am a sad gardener.  Just days ago, I tasted renewal — and this morning, I scraped ice from my windshield.  It hurts.  It really hurts.

Banana Leaf

One day, you’re on vacation in South Florida, gazing at the pattern of a banana leaf sunlit from behind (above) — and the next, you’re bundled up against the wind chill of Long Island.  After arriving home, I went through some random Florida photos and then walked around the yard on Long Island to make a comparison.  Can you guess which photos came from which zone?

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When Winter White Goes Green


IMG_2746

As the February snow melts and re-freezes, taking on the look and sound of carved Styrofoam, Long Island elected officials are scrambling to come up with answers for how municipalities so badly handled snow removal.  There is talk of contracts, lack of direction, an overwhelming amount of snow, and the resignation of one highway supervisor — so much talk, in fact, that it’s all starting to sound like a snow job as historical as the blizzard itself.

If only they had paid more attention to “The Mary Tyler Moore Show.”  There always seemed to be snow falling on the other side of the massive window in Mary’s adorable apartment — you know, the one on the top floor of Phyllis’s house.   I often dreamt that I would like to live in Mary’s apartment — if only to have Rhoda as a friend.

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Walking In A Winter Blunderland


The same bench from previous post.

The same bench from previous post.

Yesterday, I was humming Christmas carols.  Today, my lyrics sound more like this:

“There’s got to be a morning after, if we can hold on through the night

We have a chance to find the sunshine; let’s keep on looking for the light.

 Oh, can’t you see the morning after? It’s waiting right outside the storm.

Why don’t we cross the bridge together and find a place that’s safe and warm?”

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My Miracle Before Christmas


Miracle

Miracle.  It’s one of those words that’s often tossed about, especially at this time of year.  Just Google the phrase “Christmas miracle” and see what comes up — miracles, it seems, are no longer just on 34th Street.  They are, in fact, everywhere — and on this particular day, they make up a large part of my life.

Today, is my 15th birthday.  Geez, it was only a few days ago I was 12 — or, rather, being an uncle and having to purchase a Christmas gift for my 12-year-old niece.

Never mind, though — today I am celebrating the miracle of being 15.

December 12, 1997, was like many of those Long Island winter days — not sure if it wanted to be cold enough to snow or warm enough to rain.  The result was a gray, damp, slushy mix that left a coating of black ice on the pavement — and this was my commute home.

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That’s A Wrap!


I hope you don’t mind, but in honor of Thanksgiving, I’m offering some leftovers — in the form of a repost.  I’ve reworked it a bit to make it more palatable, but the gist is the same: a couple of crazy Long Islanders will do just about anything to give their yard a tropical look.  Besides, it’s way to cold and blustery today — too cold to hold the camera to redocument this process.

Enjoy — and fresh material is on its way.

I may be the gardener of the house, but Joe also has his landscape loves.  One of his greatest is palm trees.  His absolute fave is Cocos nucifera, the coconut palm.  If it were up to him, coconut palms would be growing everywhere.  We often joke that he would be to coconut palms what Johnny Appleseed was  to apples — only he would be called Joey Coconuts, which does sound a little — alright, a lot — like a character from “The Sopranos.”

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The Community That Sandy Built


A community of leaves — perfectly tie-dyed.

Community.

It’s a word and a concept that’s been on my mind lately — which is pretty amusing, actually.  I often say the older I get, the more I like to stay in my yard and not deal with people — which is difficult to do, since I’m a school social worker.  In fact, I often joke that I’m an anti-social worker.

The truth, however, is that community is important to me.  I think it’s important to all of us.  As humans, we need to belong, to feel connected — even if only to commiserate about the crazy weather.  (As an aside, I would just like to say that in the past two weeks, my part of the world has endured a hurricane, a nor’easter, snow, and — today — Spring-like temperatures. My heart says, “Go out and start planting.”  My brain says, “Are you crazy?  It’s November!”)

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Bloomin’ Update 35: Uncle!


Dahlia leaves didn’t appreciate the post-Sandy freeze.

This was supposed to be a post about how I kept myself occupied after Sandy while waiting for my work to resume.  Schools have been closed since the storm.

Fortunately, Joe and I had power throughout the Sandy ordeal, but the gas shortage had me staying close to home — which gave me the perfect chance to clean the yard.

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After Sandy: Let Trees Be Our Teachers


We can learn a lot from trees.  I first realized this after visiting the Survivor Tree at Ground Zero — and now, in the wake of Sandy, trees continue to teach me.

Bradford Pear.

Take a look at this one.  It’s a Bradford Pear — or, rather, what’s left of a Bradford Pear.

It was planted years ago, along with two others, by a local business interested in prettying up a very busy street corner.   I remember when they were all planted.  I was thrilled — at last, a business was taking an interest in beautifying the community.

Besides, at the time, the Bradford Pear was the tree of the moment, planted by towns and homeowners because of its flowering beauty, graceful shape, and instant shade ability.  Their abundance in the landscape — both public and private — turned spring into a flowering tree extravaganza.

The trees planted by this business did what they were expected to do — especially on hot summer days when residents huddled under their cool shade while waiting for the public bus.

But one by one, the trees have disappeared.  One was badly damaged after being hit by a car.  A second came down in a storm.  Now, this is the sole survivor, and I know the story of each of its missing limbs — as if I am telling the tales of the scars on my own body.

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Sandy: The Morning After


What a difference a day makes.  Twenty-four hours after Sandy, the air is cool and crisp, the sky crystal clear, and the moon full and bright.  In fact, this full moon photo, as well as some scary and festive decoration photos, was my plan for a Wordless Wednesday Halloween post.   Now, most of those decorations are blown away or are tangled in branches, and the crisp moon now illustrates how much can change in a day.

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Hurricane Sandy Update


Not the most creative headline, but it is brief and straight to the point — and that’s what I’ll try to be in this post.

First, I want to thank everyone for their support and prayers.  It has been a very long day of wind and very little rain here on Long Island.  With each passing hour, the gusts have grown stronger.  Each time, we hear the house creaking and the sound of debris hitting the windows.

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