Why I Do It

Double parked in front of a Rittenhouse townhouse, unloading trees and shrubs and bags of soil, on the lookout for Parking Authority agents and rogue cabbies intent to run me over, I thought: this is it. No more Center City landscaping jobs.

Rittenhouse Square worksite.

And yet, as I worked, on a busy social strip of Spruce Street, I was heartened as passerby after passerby stopped, smiled, chatted. A yellow tree hibiscus is just a middlin shrub on a suburban patio, but in the bustle of Center City, it evokes comments, smiles, questions.

Newly planted window box, awaiting summer growth.

When I work at the mainline estate, it is peaceful isolation. Just me, and my thoughts, and the hundreds of perennials and shrubs and trees that I have nurtured into maturation in 5 years plus of gardening there. It is satisfying to look at the landscape I have created. But I do wonder: all this for just a few to see?

Perennial border at Malwyd estate.

But in the city it is different. Hundreds of people walk past the window boxes I plant there. Sure, some throw their beer bottles, syringes, or worse in the shrubbery. But people inevitably pause and smile as they walk past. A few are curmudgeons, "Why do those crazy people plant flowers that will just be stolen?" "That's never gonna survive here."

But planting anything anywhere is always an act of hope and devotion.

And I realize to make it worth my while, I need to triple my rates for these challenging Center City sites. And yet, I think I would almost do this job for free.

Every time I work in Center City, I field dozens of inquiries: Do you plant street trees? Does your company do patios? How can I get my fig tree to fruit?

My "company," I explain, is just me. And I'm fully booked. But thanks for your interest! My standard response...

When I was doing this full time, one day of planting window boxes on a busy city sidewalk was enough to line up clients to keep me busy for the full season.

Sure, some of these people are cranks, or crazies, or impossible to please.

But generally, folks willing to invest a little care and money into creating something that will please not just them but the larger city are good folks to know.

After a summer of luxuriant growth.

After I finished planting the Spruce Street job today, I got my tools and equipment put away, myself cleaned up, and the sidewalk swept. I was walking west toward home, several blocks from where I'd been working all day. A woman called out to me from across the street. She waved me down frantically.

I paused. She froggered her way across Walnut Street.

"You're the Plant Guy!" she said.

I was about to give her my "booked for the season" speech.

But she beamed and continued, "Just wanted to let you know, I have been looking forward all winter to what you would be planting this spring on Spruce Street. What you do gives us all such pleasure and a little bit of joy everyday."

She reached out, clasped both of her small soft manicured hands around one of my grubby calloused veiny hands, squeezed gently, smiled, and went on her way.

Maybe I will keep on doing a few Center City landscape jobs. Or, at the very least, this one.

The sun sets on a day of satisfying urban horticulture.