In the Weeds, with Matthew Gallaway: City Island
As I turned on to City Island Avenue, the first thing I noted was a series of magnificent trees, all eviscerated so as not to interfere with the almighty power lines. 'Can't Bloomberg do something about this?' I asked Stephen and we both laughed, knowing that the mayor has only been north of 96th Street ___ times during his 10,000 years in office, much less to any part of the Bronx beyond a 500-foot radius of Yankee Stadium.
We pulled into the parking lot of a seafood restaurant where we were meeting some friends, and I admired a line of Eastern White Pines, also rendered effectively two dimensional in order not to cover the parking lot with their boughs. In contrast to certain other establishments I have recently passed on the Upper West Side (near the new ____ Store, to be specific), I observed no well-heeled throngs lined up out front, and so was not inclined to mutter: 'WTF, I thought we were in the middle of a recession?'
To the contrary, City Island (a sliver of land—traditionally a fishing village—in the Bronx, on the far western edge of the Long Island Sound) seemed to suffer from the kind of economic hangover that makes current unemployment rates and skittish real-estate values entirely believable.
Though graced with the brilliant yellow leaves of a ginkgo tree, the Neptune Inn was only one of many abandoned properties on the commercial strip.
A decaying mural of the 9iu11ani-era New York City skyline, which hovered over a lush patch of indestructible junipers, seemed to symbolize more than horrific acts of terrorism.
After eating, we went on a long walk around town. Away from the commercial district, the streets—almost all of which were only a few blocks from the water—were lined with a variety of mature (and un-eviscerated) trees including maples, oaks, pines, lindens and hornbeams.
Many of the houses, even the plainest, had beautiful specimen trees in the front yards, including a stunning array of Japanese maples.
We passed a yew bush, and I resisted the urge to pull off one of the red berries—called 'arils'—and crush it, to rub the viscous fluid between my fingers as I liked to do as a child. Not coincidentally, perhaps, I wondered where Oliver Sacks—City Island's most famous hot gay bear 'lifetime bachelor'—lived, and wished that I could see his garden of ferns and cycads.
We paused at the Pelham Cemetery, and felt that despite a non-prohibition against plastic flowers on the grave sites, it would probably be a nice place to be buried.
Nearby we admired a small, obsessive yard of marigolds.
Across the street, someone else had planted amazing red dahlias with blooms the size of softballs.
Back on the avenue, a yacht store's sales pitch message failed to inspire optimism.
But as the sun broke through the trees, I felt confident that just as City Island has endured for hundreds of years, it would do the same going forward.
Previously: The Oxford Botanic Garden
Matthew Gallaway is a writer who lives in Washington Heights. His first novel, 'The Metropolis Case,' will be published in 2010 by Crown.
<- sincerely appreciates your correct usage of 'the Long Island Sound.'
As opposed to "Billy Joel and Lou Reed are the alpha and omega of the Long Island Sound"?
I went to City Island once and met Vincent Pastore walking down the street by himself. Emily deemed that non Stalk-worthy.
Beautiful as always! That Japanese maple! I envy the temperate microclimate that allows marigolds yet to bloom. [Random gardening discovery: gorgeous cerinthe, very tender, survives, along with some straggling toadflax, in one must-be-zone-6 pocket of my otherwise-zone-4 yard.]
Regarding Oliver "Bear" Sacks—When I read his long tribute to Thom Gunn in Threepenny Review a few years ago, I all but smacked my forehead with the palm of my hand.
We've yet to have a real frost this year in New York City, so that might have something to do with it (the annuals are still going strong in our garden, too). And also, City Island is like the Edward Scissorhands nabe, but with Japanese Maples!
Diane Wiest lives in City Island!?
I love "In the Weeds."
When I graduated and finalized my plans to move to New York, my dad fondly recollected the time he spent living on City Island with a wife and a leaky boat. I had a girlfriend but no boat, yet nonetheless, as soon as we were both in Brooklyn, she bailed.
Ergo (but in a whisper): City Island > Coney Island
That tree evisceration to accomodate power lines happens upstate, too — always such a sad sight!
Meanwhile, out here on this New England beach, many of my perennials are having a second flowering with this warm November.
Sadly, I think it happens all over the country. I honestly don't know enough about it to know who was at fault (research project!), but it definitely makes for a melancholy landscape (and not in a good way).
Very nice again, and not even any LOTR references to bitch about.
Assuming the power lines have been there a while, whomever planted the tall growing trees beneath the lines is the eviscerator.
Also, that weeping, lacy Japanese maple is gorgeous, as is any ginkgo tree.
Out here where I live, you'd be amazed at how many folks plant redwood trees under power lines. I know of some two ft. diameter trees that are only 18 ft. tall.
Good post!
One note; City Island was never really a "fishing village". Shipbuilding was its former industry.
Also, Hired Goons comment that THE Long Island Sound is correct is debatable.
Thanks for the correction, Soundbounder, and I'll let you and Hired Goons hash out the correct LIS terminology.
This is the most welikesheepesque or soreafraidesque posting ever published by the Awl.
Why not just hire the real Eric next time?
Bandwagonesque, joeclark! (Be less stupid.)