The classical guitar played a familiar tune as I was walking up 6th avenue towards the 9th street PATH station. I once loved a girl or should I say she once loved me. Norwegian Wood. I love Rubber Soul. The sound was coming from behind the a metal fence which has always been locked or at least seemed so whenever I’ve been by. I guess I always assumed it was some private garden.
No, it is the Jefferson Market Garden, a community garden that while it does have limited hours and is closed during the winter months, is a public space. Puts the green back in Greenwich Village.
Second day in August, summer has yet to wear out its welcome. In fact, summer is at that fecund stage that makes you willing to believe this year it will last forever. The flower garden seemed unconvinced that it was slightly past its seasonal peak.
The feeling of placidness, a meditative serenity was irresistible as I wandered along the winding brick pathway. A Zen-like stroll, through flowers and bushes and trees. The guitarist was good, the arrangements had a Leo Kottee improvisational expansiveness, took a while to guess – Strawberry Field. Then an Elvis – Can’t Help Falling in Love.
Scampering children, young lovers, singles, lounging in the afternoon sun. It was like discovering a sanctuary of greenery. A pond on one end. I found a bower to call my own. I read some, waited quietly as Robins hopped nearby into the camera frame.
No pigeons. Food, like smoking, is prohibited. Such a wide variety of plant life. Neighborhood women were pruning, hanging out, talking with each other and with the visitors. The nylon strings ringing like chimes.