Matthew Gallaway

Breaking: Rain Drops on Columnar Pin Oak Buds

Unlike many of the other trees and flowers in the city, the columnar pin oaks (Quercus palustris 'Green Pillar') in our front yard have, as usual, taken their time this spring. They don't have any plans for the weekend except to sit in the rain, which is one of the reasons why we get along so well. 

The Grand Canyons of Midtown (The Evening Commute)

I realize the urban landscape of midtown Manhattan is not as impressive as the real Grand Canyon, but nevertheless, it's still pretty awe-inspiring, or at least something you would have to see to believe. I also like to chase the setting sun through the ravines each day as I walk west to the subway. 

What the Flowers of 34th Street Really Talk About

Daffodil: Did you know that hyacinths are garish and predictable?

Hyacinth: You mean just like daffodils lol?  Daffodil: Nice ponytail, bro.

Hyacinth: Lol.  Daffodil: Hey lady, what's the rush?

Hyacinth: Lol people.  Daffodil: Ugh, this rain. 

Hyacinth: I know, will it ever stop?  Daffodil: Run into the store and get me a bottle of whiskey?

Hyacinth: You're closer. 

March of the Primrose (Spring Things)

Not every flower can be your favorite, but some are worth keeping around because they're very reliable and content to play a supporting role in the garden. That's how it with our primroses: they bloom every spring with their tiny and not exactly modern flowers (and let's not even talk about the leaves), but then they are content to recede into the shadows for another year. 

A Few Thoughts on Electronic and Print Publishing

What do I need all these stupid books for anyway if I have a Kindle?  I hate Kindles though.  "Look at me, I'm reading a Kindle/iPad/e-book app." -- someone on the C-train. 
"I'm reading a hardcover, because I hate the modern world/technology." -- someone else on the C-train with a real book.  I'm reading a really good book right now: it's called "About to Fall Asleep" by Taking Naps and it's in invisible format.  

A Life in Gardens (Acer Palmatum "Forty Four")

Today I turned 44, which in the expected ways is agonizing: the uncertainty about the future, the physical aches and pains, the way life moves very quickly when viewed in just about any increment longer than the ticking minutes of bureaucratic meeting in which you are a non-essential participant. To have made it this far, however, offers some comfort. It's sort of like driving over ice-covered bridges, which I had the fortune/misfortune to do quite often while living in Ithaca: you can OMG feel the tires slipping, but as long as you keep the wheel and the gas pedal steady, you're going to make it to the other side. Or at least I always did, like the majority of people. It might require a prayer of some sort, but that's okay, too. Or maybe life really is like a garden, as I'm the ten billionth person to point out. You start out with a barren patch of ground and put many things into it; some will make it, and some won't. Some -- like our Japanese maple that we affectionately call "the shish" (Acer palmatum 'Shishigashira') -- turn out to be just as beautiful as you might have hoped, except even better because it's here and now (as opposed to a picture in a catalog) and a tree you helped to grow and thrive (notwithstanding the fact that you managed to kill a few others). So deep breath: time is on the march, and there's much to enjoy and remember, just as there's much to let slide off into the oblivion where it belongs.  

Scenes from a Foggy Morning in Washington Heights (Notes on Truth and History)

I actually took these shots last week, but this morning is close enough to give you a good approximation of what's going on outside weatherwise. In the past few weeks there's been a lot of discussion about what's true and not true, most obviously in the context of the China/Apple/This American Life report, but also in the context of Mad Men, which is often lauded for its attention of historical accuracy and period detail. I enjoy Mad Men and will definitely watch, but I would be lying if it I said it didn't grate a bit that there seems (at least as far as I can tell) to be little to no discussion of what life in the early sixties was like for gays; in this respect, Mad Men (like virtually every show in the modern era) is a disappointment, because despite having a closet-case character (Sal) in earlier seasons, it in no way captures what was obviously a very vibrant "scene" that existed in all of the big cities at the time. Yes there were laws forbidding homosexual behavior (and even cross dressing), and there were also many more raids and arrests by the vice squads, but at the same time, there was more space in our cities, not only in the geographical sense, but also in the more Orwellian/psychological sense, for those who wanted or needed to exist outside of the margins of convention, or more often, to dip in and out, which is something Mad Men captures very well with regard to many other subjects (drinking, heterosexual philandering, etc.)

I recently finished City of Night by John Rechy, which though technically a "novel" is a firsthand account of a hustler who lives for several years in the gay world of the late 50s/early 60s (the book was published in 1963) and gives you a very clear picture of what things were really like fifty years ago, and it's very interesting to see how things have and have not changed. (Samuel Delany is another writer who has documented this era in his autobiography, The Motion of Light in Water.) There is a common narrative in our society that places gay sex as something that really started to come into its own in the late 60s, became "out of control" in the 70s, and resulted in AIDS in the 80s, which has led to the current swing toward convention (most obviously in the context of gay marriage). My point here is not to argue for or against this swing toward convention (I very much think any two people who want to get married should be able to do so), but at the same time I think it's important to remember that gay sex -- like its straight counterpart -- has always been a constant in history, and when it comes to urban life in 1963, we have the documentation to prove it.  

The Dawn Redwood Spreads Its Wings (Garden Events)

It's a perfect Saturday here and the dawn redwood is filled with buds, which soon will spread into soft, feathery wings. 

Breaking: Happy Hour in the Garden with Cats

After an "incident" last summer in which Dante and Zephyr mistook each other for strange cats (while staring at one another through a window), bringing them out to the garden has been a delicate proposition. Today was the first day we brought them out and they showed no signs of aggression: no hissing, no flattened ears, no fat tails. Elektra for some reason didn't want to join in the party, but Dante celebrated with a glass of wine. 

Park Avenue In Bloom (Party Philosophy 101)

Usually the end of March is a time of fruitless longing for days like today, but rather than worry about it too much, I took a stroll up Park Avenue, resolving to enjoy the party while it lasts.