In the Weeds, with Matthew Gallaway: In Search of Lost Roses
As Stephen and I pulled into the parking lot of our favorite nursery on a recent Saturday afternoon—we were here to buy mulch—I felt a stab of regret that it was not the 'Month of Mary,' followed by a second stab of regret that we were not walking through the countryside of France (followed by a third that it was 2009 and a fourth that ____).
All of these regrets were triggered by the sight of the name 'Hawthorne' on the exit sign of the Saw Mill River Parkway. In addition to being the site of the nursery, it (i.e., the hawthorn, albeit without the extra 'e') plays a pivotal role in Swann's Way, the first volume of the larger work by Marcel Proust I have recently been reading in the newish translation by Lydia Davis. Specifically, the narrator first glimpses Gilberte Swann, who later becomes the focus of his first obsessive crush, through a hedge of hawthorns.
Before attending to the mulch, we strolled through the grounds of the nursery. Where only months earlier there had been rows and rows of lush, preening trees and perennials, there were now large swaths of empty gravel.
A cedar tree seemed particularly forlorn, tilted at such a strange angle in its root ball.
I even felt sorry for an espaliered juniper, which is probably the lowliest of all conifers for its prevalence in the medians of suburban parking lots and gas stations.
I morosely wondered if I had reached an age when I could identify with these aimless, ill-fated plants and post-Halloween pumpkins.
My mood improved as I returned to the center of the nursery, where a stunning array of trees stood clumped together, perhaps to endure the winter like the penguins in that popular movie from a few hundred years ago. Although there were no hawthorns to be found, the brilliant red fruit of the zumi crabapple tree more than consoled me.
As did the orange berries of a nearby firethorn, which in fact is in the same family (Rosaceae) as the hawthorn (and not surprisingly, the rose.)
The cotoneaster is also in the rose family, and its lovely red berries never fail to charm me.
The purple beautyberry (Callicarpa dichotoma) is not in the rose family, however, and the bubble-gum tone of its fruit left me a bit nauseated.
Stepping back to admire the flaming leaves of a dwarf fothergilla, I realized that there was no pink to be found, and for a moment—returning to Proust—I again wished it could be spring, just so I could experience firsthand the power of his description. As he writes of the pink hawthorn blooms in May (translated so perfectly by Davis), 'these flowers had chosen precisely the color of an edible thing, or of a delicate embellishment to an outfit for an important holiday, one of those colors which, because they offer children the reason for their superiority, seem most obviously beautiful to the eyes of children, and for that reason will always seem more vivid and more natural to them than the other tints…'
But with the mulch purchased and loaded into the car, it was time to return to the city. As we pulled back onto the highway, I admired a stand of dawn redwoods—the needles russet in the November sun—and felt actually relieved that spring was still many months away.
Previously: City Island
Matthew Gallaway is a writer who lives in Washington Heights. His first novel, 'The Metropolis Case,' will be published in 2010 by Crown.
as i pulled myself out of bed this morning-i was getting up to make coffee-i felt a pang of regret that there was no prostitute in my bed, followed by a second pang of regret that i would not be snorting blow off of her ass today (followed by a third and fourth that neither hookers nor blow are legal).
My condolences, roboloki — sounds like you had a rough Thanksgiving.
thanks matthew. not so much a rough thanksgiving as i'm just bored and the awl (bless their hearts) are doing next to nothing to help matters. shopping and football…i'd rather be assraped by a nine-dicked orangutan.
The tone of this suited my mood today. Pitch perfect. Thanks.
I relate to Junipers.
No kidding, NVC, we've all been there…
That Juniper is the perfect metaphor for so much of what's gone on this past year.
Matthew – beautiful words and photos as always.
Mulch and Proust. Fridays this fall, only on The Awl ™
The beautyberries taste like beautyberries!
Wow — I didn't know they were edible! (Will defer to the cooking experts now…)
Why, yes; yes I do like Mexico.
Beautyberry!? Who ever heard of a beautyberry?
a great combo of words and images, matthew! happy thanksgiving, and chin-up, good man!
This column should be repackaged and sold as a new line of Starburst.
That would be a dream come true. (As I just learned from Wikipedia, ahem), they already have "Tropical Fruit Chews (strawberry banana, royal berry punch, mango melon, pina colada)," so why not the 'Rosaceae Fruit Chews' (Hawthorn, Firethorn, Cotoneaster, Climbing Rose). Is there a Starburst product development rep in the house? (Anything to escape the drudgery of 9-5, obv.)
I would like to take this moment to endorse Starbust's 'Tropical' flavors as the best of all the fruit chews.
H8 u yellow starbust.
Try these: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haw_flakes
We could do much to rectify the trade imbalance by growing/manufacturing (Awl branded) 'Haw Flakes' domestically.
I have had Haw Flakes and while the whole point of Starburst is the variety, Haw Flakes not only taste exactly the same but if you eat too any they make everything you try to eat for the next 24 hours taste like Haw Flakes.
Wonderful images!
I quite enjoyed this article and will refer it to a few friends that also enjoy gardening.
I'm fairly certain whatever camera Matthew uses is infused with pscilocybin.
It's just the ole magic mushrooms appy on the iphone.
Team beautyberry! And, for God's sake man, learn how to hold your Lamiaceae!
Lovely photos. My venue for fall foliage photos seems to be a bit further down on the Saw Mill, at VE Macy Park.
For an exciting moment I thought The Awl went on a field trip to Toronto. Eh? Eh? Anyone? Outing myself here.
Beautiful piece, Matthew. I'm jealous of that zumi crabapple – up here in Zone 5 we've got nothing left but bare twigs and dark green. *sniffle*
Maybe you should give it a shot? You might be surprised at what will survive these days (global warming, microclimates, etc). I recently saw a fig tree living in the ground in a community garden around the corner from me in New York City.