Down On The Farm

A skeleton becomes fertile when wished upon

Fragrant, verdant basil vitality

Anise Hyssop and fuzzy, flying friend

Blush-inducing zuke

Green soldiers

Visitor

Water break

Blue skies in July

Growing inside-out

Blue-green sea of collards

All photos taken at Red Hook Community Farm in Brooklyn, where everyone is welcome to volunteer on Saturdays!

The Urban Garden

The aesthetic of the urban garden either enchants or repels, and nothing in between. The enchanted see life sprouting from nothingness. The repelled only see nothingness.

One cannot allow country coveting to conflict with one's inspired attempt to grow where nothing else grows.

Green vines slowly consume rusted remains and shroud walls that divide the land.

A weed shouldn't be capitally punished for having so much energy. Our weeds are glorious fighters that must be perpetually subdued to allow for more docile existences.

In this changing city, the urban garden's ancient cycle is sacred.

Chemicals have done enough damage to the Gowanus Canal for the rest of Brooklyn to get out of jail free of pesticides.

In an urban garden, coexistence triumphs. A metropolis has never been so serene. Or so alive.

When planting seeds, the urban gardener hopes that humanity's cruel indifference to itself hasn't impacted her ability to cultivate growth.

But Ma Nature is a witchy woman with weird and wonderful whims, and she almost always gets her way. Plus, she's got friends in high places.

Because at the end of the day, its all about friendship, right?

All photos were taken at the volunteer-fueled organic gardens that have begun producing fresh local produce for Roberta's in Bushwick. The shockingly lively leafy greens were picked lovingly and put on the table only moments later. Delicious.

Bee Tea

We headed over to Roberta's to make the bee tea. I hadn't been there since the raised beds were built atop the container. I'm consistently impressed by the amount of planning, old-fashioned manual labor, and enthusiastic volunteerism that the Brooklyn Avant Gardeners bring to the table. It is truly rare for a group of young people to say "Let's do this" and then actually do it. AND not just do it half-assed, but do it completely and with passion. The Bee Team is just one part of what can only be described as a movement, or at least an experiment to see just how sustainable we can be in this crazy city. The answer seems to be: very.

Our carbon footprints are becoming smaller and smaller...

(Disclaimer: this is not an actual "carbon footprint." Rather, it is Meatball's paw print on the container stairs after playing in the raised beds.)

This is how to make Bee Tea:

Step 1: Get a big pot of hot water. Think of it as a gigantic teacup.

Step 2: Add 1 part sugar for each part water, stir, and throw in chosen bee potion herbs.

(The green stuff is stinging nettle... growing at Roberta's! The stars are aligned.)

Step 3: Let steep, then separate herbs from water and ladle into mason jars.

Step 4: Add a few drops of thyme oil. Not too much, this stuff is potent.

Step 5: Taste the tea to make sure it is something you would drink. If not, make modifications so that it is pleasing to your taste buds. Close the lids and let them cool overnight so the sugar is completely dissolved.

(Optional Step 6: Marvel over how pretty the mason jars look in the light:)

We will poke tiny holes in the top of the mason jars. This way, when the bees arrive from Georgia, they won't have to immediately go forage for food. It's the same concept as providing exhausted travelers (especially those unlucky victims of cancelled flights) with a Ruby Tuesdays at the airport hotel, except that the bee food is delicious and nutritious.

I've been so focused on bee matters that I've missed some of the most grueling work days on the gardening side of things. It was great to see the fruits of the Avant Gardeners' labor:

Brandywine tomato plant, still a cute little toddler.

Broccoli! (I'd never guess unless someone told me.)

The Life of an Urban Beekeeper

I have learned that urban beekeepers must be resilient, creative problem solvers with lots of gumption. When we arrived at the Metropolitan building with a family van filled with planters, plants, and tons of soil, we didn't anticipate that the old elevator might be opened on someone's floor, and thus inaccessible until that person closed it. Said person actually witnessed our dilemma, stepping over all of the gigantic, elevator-bound goods on his way out the door. Only upon said person's return did he decide to speak up, (after many trips up the grueling yet extremely photogenic staircase,) pretending to be a "nice guy" and offering to "check" if his floor was the culprit. Of course it was. Instead of manning up and walking back up to his loft to close the elevator, he chose to be a Selfish Sally and run his own errands first. Lesson: D-baggery is an inevitable obstacle in the urban beekeeper's life and should thus be anticipated. Patience and a willingness to do things the old fashioned way are an urban beekeeper's requisite character traits.

Up on the roof, the sky was mercurial.

Once we got the majority of the plants up, it was time to get down to biznass.

The boys moved the beautiful (and very heavy) planter built, painted, and donated by Jon's friend Seth, to it's new home.

Twas windy, and I feared that the culture shock from the warm shelter of the greenhouse would prove too exasperating for the dainty Feverfew and elegant stalks of lavender blossom.

In the end, we planted the rosebush with the sun roses in one half of the planter, and the rosemary and various sages in the other half. Rosemary and sage are complimentary plants, which means they work symbiotically. Each one helps the other become a better version of itself.

Urban beekeepers get to sit back and enjoy the fruits of their labor...

The sun finally emerged and I lost track of time enjoying it, and got a mean parking ticket. Saw it's orange wrath from the roof and trudged down the seven flights. At least I got support from my friends:

The delicate plants will spend a few more days in the sunny stairwell, and the hive will continue to await its inhabitants...

Urban beekeepers never take the simple pleasures for granted.