Archive for the ‘The Summer Garden’ Category

In which The Gay Recluse dreams about the garden. When the February blues hit — and considering this winter, how could they not? — we like to immerse ourselves into dreams of spring, which entails many hours in the seed and plant catalogs. Though our garden is dominated by perennials, bushes and trees designed to […]

In which The Gay Recluse looks through leaves at the sky. For a while we were thinking about watching some of the Republican convention. But — incredibly — it seems even dumber than the Olympics the Democratic convention. It’s hard to imagine people living their lives as politicians, or even journalists. But somehow they do […]

In which The Gay Recluse hates smug people of any political persuasion. Aww, NYT “Domestic Disturbances” columnist Judith Warner is upset! She doesn’t understand why we have to spend so much money on pets, when we could just take them out in the backyard and shoot them when they get hurt or sick, like they […]

In which The Gay Recluse becomes increasingly obsessed with campanula. Before we bought this variety, we always wondered why it was called a bellflower. Campanula is Latin for “little bell.” —Wikipedia

In which The Gay Recluse is still voting for Obama. He’s not Janice Dickinson, but whatevs — did he not promise to mandate Sunday bagpipe maneuvers in the park? Let us now make clear our one non-negotiable demand: henceforth we will limit our support of presidential candidates to those who promise — upon assuming the […]

In which The Gay Recluse loves the weeping blue atlas cedar and the first episode of The Hills. We finally saw the first episode of The Hills. Lo was really mean! (But so was Audrina.) We’re never interested in Heidi and Spencer. Mostly we watch for Lauren. There’s something heartbreaking about her idealism. We can’t […]

In which The Gay Recluse loves trees. So we sit down on the subway next to this guy who starts to aggressively hum. (We’re like: why us?) And then he karate chops at the air in front of him. We ignore him and think about Chamaecyparis obtusa.

In which The Gay Recluse succumbs to annuals. Now that it’s cooled off a little, we’re starting to get some blooms. You could probably read a lot into that, and we’re not stopping you. For a cheerful alternative to morning glories, give black-eyed Susan vine a try. —Willi Galloway

In which The Gay Recluse becomes increasingly obsessed with Japanese maples. Hey there, Eskimo Sunset (Acer pseudoplatanus)! You’re actually a combination between a maple and a sycamore; we also read somewhere that you’re the most variegated plant in the world! As with all of our City Pattern Projects, we dream of the day that you […]

In which The Gay Recluse enjoys the fruits of his labor. Spread the word, Alex! No pesticides and seedless, too! GR:s last posts proves my argument even further, it’s all about ATTENTION, AH THE SWEET ATTENTION! Is it worth hurting other “normal” gay men and women by spreading out the overly proud super-queer stereotype for […]

In which The Gay Recluse visits a friend’s garden. Sometimes we long for more gardening space, so that we could enjoy exploding swaths of bee balm every July. But then we would have to drive everywhere. And our head would be filled with dangerous little songs. Don’t get me wrong, i think it’s terrible to […]

In which The Gay Recluse is increasingly reclusive. Sometimes things happen just the way you dream about. According to our research, the baby shoots will be 800 foot-tall culms within 60 days. The hope is that if we get enough of them, we won’t even be able to see the apartment building behind us. Remember […]

In which The Gay Recluse remains hidden in the summer garden. “[I]n the end we could choose only between the bleak and the bleaker – that was the extent of our freedom.” –Peter Nadas, A Book of Memories

In which The Gay Recluse retreats to the summer garden. The European white birch has always been the focal point of our garden in Washington Heights. Each leaf, of course, represents a day in our past, and for this reason might seem more valuable if there weren’t so many. –The Gay Recluse, November 13, 2007

In which The Gay Recluse retreats to the summer garden. Remember that post we did on that stupid Nike ad? Huge traffic whores that we are, we immediately sent it to Queerty and Towleroad, and they picked it up. And then JoeMyGod and Gawker did pieces, too!  And a bunch of other sites we never […]

In which The Gay Recluse explores a longstanding obsession with moss-covered brick. Bricks, it seems, are the literal building blocks of civilization, whereas moss is the incremental destroyer. To see them together — and to appreciate the beauty of this — is to understand that you cannot have one without the other, just the way […]

In which The Gay Recluse remembers life 100 years ago. Well, except for the satellite dishes…

In which The Gay Recluse dreams of the desert. This year one of our cactus bloomed for the first time. Apparently it’s very happy! We admire it, even though it makes us wish that we lived in the desert, far away from everything we hate.

In which The Gay Recluse becomes increasingly obsessed with Corsican mint. We were worried that our Corsican mint wouldn’t come back this year. So we bought some more! But then it did come back, just as we were told it would. Some obsessions are obviously more benign than others. Of all the groundcovers we introduced […]

In which The Gay Recluse talks to his mother about life before the internet. Our mother recently told us about when she was a teenager and used to go to camp during the summer. Usually her family could only afford to send her for one week, which cost $7.50. Then one summer — in 1946, […]