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.
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