As a gardener in Washington Heights, the most daunting problem (besides the rats) has always been the pervasive and terrifying sense of being scrutinized by at least three thousand people the second I step outside. This is due to the many apartment buildings-all six stories and built within 15 feet of their respective property lines-that hover over the tiny backyard plot.

While I initially managed to overcome this fear while hauling around bricks and dirt and perennials-as if to prove to this spectral audience that I was capable of hard work and thus worthy of the property-I found it impossible to ever relax in the garden. To, say, lounge in a chair with a glass of Irish whiskey and Volume II of The World as Will and Representation, as I had always dreamed of doing.

Three years ago, with a thought to permanently address both issues, and filled with visions of Venetian courtyards-where Stephen and I had just returned from a week spent obsessively photographing decaying facades-we decided to enclose the garden with nine-foot stucco-faced walls. At the south end, we built a grape arbor under which we placed a table and chairs and-to further enhance the illusion of privacy-a large trough in which we planted one of the most contentious plants in the world of gardening: Phyllostachys aureosulcata 'Spectabilis,' a-gasp!-running bamboo.

Initially we had hoped to fill the trough with some sort of columnar conifer-one that would preferably grow to fifty feet but not spread more than three or four feet wide-but our research proved that no such plant existed, or at least not beyond the pages of a Dr. Seuss book. We were not oblivious to the perils of running bamboo, whose detractors could be quite fanatical in their hatred. "The bamboo should ONLY be planted in an enclosed, 'containable' area from which this devil-plant can escape," stated one such site, "so BE CAREFUL and BE CONSIDERATE when planting bamboo or better yet, NEVER plant DAMNBOO!"

A Wall Street Journal video segment described (with decidedly Blair-Witch overtones) the bamboo as having 'relentlessly' taken over a small town in Virginia. Somewhat more amusingly, or not, a couple of gay bear/science nerds established that the culms (or new shoots) of Spectabilis have the capacity to penetrate the human body, lending credence to the theory that bamboo has been used as a method of torture by the United States in Iraq China during the Korean War.

Undeterred, we knew that despite the risks, we had to have it. 'Spectabilis' was the obvious choice, given that it's cold-hardy to -10 degrees F (Zone 5), with a maximum height of 25-30 feet and a two-inch diameter. Moreover, it is beautiful: in the words of someone else, its "colors are reversed from the species, i.e., it has bright yellow culms with a green sulcus... Spectabilis is vigorous and rather rare. Like the other forms of the species, this bamboo makes an excellent hedge or screen due to its fast, upright growth."

Like so much else that is vigorous and rather rare, it turned out that Spectabilis was being grown somewhere in New Jersey, about two hours from New York City. We rented a truck and arrived in a rural, windswept area of the state, marked by flat two-lane roads and trailer homes. We bought seven clumps and drove back to Washington Heights, where we planted them in the trough.

It is now the third year of our Spectabilis, and each spring the bamboo has grown higher and thicker. (Incredibly, it is also evergreen.) So far-knock wood-it has not penetrated the cement barrier in which it is contained. It really is quite amazing to see something emerge from the ground and rise 15-20 feet within the space of 30 days or so. I would never advocate the careless planting of bamboo, but if done right, there's nothing quite like it.

These days, I sit in my chair, completely shielded from all eyes, whiskey and Schopenhauer in hand, as I listen to the whispered scratch of the leaves against the wall. Does this plant intend to take over the world, and if so, would it be such a bad thing? I'm almost inclined to say no! Just say the name-Spectabilis!-and you too may be convinced.

Matthew Gallaway is a writer who lives in Washington Heights. His first novel, The Metropolis Case, will be published in 2010 by Crown.

Previously: Corsican Mint!