It is almost impossible to feel down when you visit. The New York Botanical Garden always has something new to see. Or something not new but ever-fresh. A bee on a blossom.
Yes, the flowers are flowering. The dahlias.
The hydrangeas, some more exotic than others.
The lilies.
Especially nice when you bring someone who loves plants.
She likes the trees, some of which remind her of when she once lived in Japan.
They are incredible.
From a distance, or close up.
Some she had not met before, like the dawn redwood.
The recorded spiel on the tram tells us that it is ancient, was forgotten then rediscovered, magically.
Or swamp white oak.
Anyone would marvel at some of the behemoths here.
Yes, we go on the tram. I like to do so every time I’m at NYBG, even though I’ve heard the same NYBG lore many times before. I want to crystallize it all in my memory, to mentally map which garden is the dwarf conifer, which the azalea, which the “old growth” forest.
I always like to see the people employed to work in the garden as we trundle by.
And the people working there for fun, as at the Edible Academy.
It’s almost as much a pleasure to see the people on the tram as it is to gaze out on the manicured landscape.
This time, a special treat. The African American Garden: The Caribbean Experience, where diverse and delicious foods get their due.
Corn.
Squash.
Pumpkin.
Exotic okra.
Pineapple.
Rice.
Beans.
Flowering currant.
All so wonderfully labelled with kitchen utensils.
I’m not quite sure about some plants here but I know I’d like to investigate further.
Along the paths, posted poetry. Haitian poet Marie-Ovide Dorcely:
I go, just hands, beyond the just, and climb,
clamber, through begonia, a blue husk,
impatiens, a dolly for leaves,
I breathe for the hush of happiness.
There is even a magical bottle tree created by high school students.
Some mysteries here. Food for thought. Cardoon.
It’s hard to tear yourself away from this lyrical food garden. But there are more flowers to see.
And greenery.
And more greenery.
And even more greenery.
Today I like the vivid green as much as the pulpy red. Crimson clover. (Over and over.)
And the pods.
Nature offers such marvels, if you’re just present for them. Allow me to introduce you to stonecrop.
Artichoke thistle.
Always something to learn, like what lily of the valley looks like after it’s bloomed.
And some woman-made marvels, such as the flocks of scary-beautiful vultures installed among the borders by genius artist Ebony G. Patterson.
Who doesn’t love hibiscus?
Or caladium?
Especially the caladium. Or the glowing lantana.
It’s all there for us.
All of us.
Even if you’re one who likes to take the tram.
Jean Zimmerman 