a tiny sacred space.

with a solitary crocus and a few spindly daffs.

The postage-sized garden in the front of our apartment building is not exactly a lush exemplar of urban gardening, but it’s there. There are poorly privet shrubs along the wrought iron fence and an enormous top-heavy evergreen bush that should have been tamed—or removed altogether—years ago. (One person’s eyesore, is another person’s privacy screen, I suspect.) The 1940s tax photo of our address shows a small and shapely sapling in the middle of a small manicured garden. The pull shades in the double-door windows are the same now as in the photos, and so I imagine the same is true of the tree, though trees grow and what’s there now is a towering oak, nearly as tall as the building itself.