Tall Fences Make Good Neighbors

Our friends at Wikipedia tell us that unlike many other groups that emerged within Christianity, the Religious Society of Friends, or Quakers, has tended away from creeds, and away from a hierarchical structure.

Well, there's certainly a hierarchical structure around their cemetery in the middle of Prospect Park. I suppose one has to protect one's self from our stupid fucking local teen pseudo-thugs. Barbed wire though? Zowee. Don't be like that, baby. I thought we were Friends. 

Actually, I'm kidding. I really do have respect for their wishes. If someone doesn't want you on their  property, I think you should stay the fuck out. If the Quakers prefer we not be stomping all over their graves, I think that's awesome. I mean we do have the nation's #1 funereal tourist attraction right down the street - Greenwood Land.

However, the Quakers have allowed us a mini-tour, revealed in short peeks and mosquito bites along the fences and gates. And there is a path. So, I have to think that a little fence action is okey-doke with the Quakers. Why is their cemetery right smack in the middle of the Park? It's really the simplest answer possible - It was already there, so Olmstead and Vaux simply built the park around it. Enjoy the tour! You can click on any of the pics to enbiggen them.

From the Horse Pen and the South end of the Ball Fields, follow the bridal path down to the corner of the chain link fence,  just into the woods alongside West Drive. The fence is the South(ish) boundry of the cemetery, and a rather nice little path will follow it. Fair warning - You'll have to do a little dodging and bushwhacking, and you'll be bit by a thousand fucking mosquitoes. Still a nice walk though. Are we smilin'?

There are a few neat views through the fence, shaded and filtered through trees along the first part of the path. However, fear not, and trust the Quakers - there's a nice view of a small section of the cemetery further along. By nature, there's not a lot to see here, but my view is that it is nice to see a simple, well-tended cemetery, especially one that has been in existence for so long.  

Not too too many curiosities, but I did come across a few. What's this old vault or stone pit along the fence? Clearly, it's been there for a very long time. Maybe an old dry well? Notice along side of it - there's a piece of an old monument or a broken stone finial. I decided it had probably been tossed over the fence. The Quaker markers are very simple, and it doesn't look like something you'd find in there. 

In a covered clearing near the corner of the cemetery, I found another curiosity - and I find these odd structures all over the park. It's an odd little lean-to made out of fallen wood. It looks like some sort of shelter. (I suppose if you tossed something over the frame, it actually would be some sort of shelter.) There was recently one of these also near the BBQ area to the left, just in from The Marquis at 9th Street. They're always built on a fallen tree. Curious.

As you turn the corner, following the fence to the left, you'll come to the cemetery's main entrance. Not much in the way of signage, but I guess there wouldn't be in this case. You'll see the much fabled "private property" sign on the left through the gate, but other than that, you'll have to content yourself with the beautiful view.

You know what I really wanna see? The fenced-off area between the cemetery's Northeast border and Fallkill Falls. Maybe someday. 

-Parker

Nightmare on Elm Street

Right here in Prospect Park, we have perhaps the most notable and distinguished tree in New York City. It's the Camperdown Elm, just off the Boathouse. (I'm not being ironic, people. It's a seriously cool tree.) Take that, you Bitches Across the Bridge.

Shame on us though - we almost fucked it up.

It was planted near the corner of the Boathouse, just to the South, in 1872. It's kind of hard to describe, but suffice it to say, it looks like the a giant mutant bonsai tree with weeping branches. In fact, ducking under the canopy is sort of like entering a little hobbit house. I wish there weren't a huge fence around it (totally sucks), but I suppose we must protect the thing. It's rare, you know. 

There's this estate in Dundee, Scotland, which belonged to the Earl of Camperdown. Well, the old Earl's head tree man discovered a mutant branch growing along the ground (as opposed to growing skyward). Tree-Guy created the first Camperdown Elm by grafting it onto the trunk of a Wych Elm - curiously, the only elm species that the Camperdown will canoodle with ... it will not successfully graft onto any other root stock. Ergo, that original mutant cutting is the Baby-Daddy of every Camperdown in existence.

There was a little Camperdown soap-opera when the fourth and final Earl hopped the pond and moved to Boston. I wonder if he ever took the trip to Brooklyn to see his tree? Lord Camperdown (of the Boston Camperdowns) never had any children, so all his titles expired when he died in Boston in 1933.

The rare tree was a gift of Mr. A. G. Burgess to Prospect Park in 1872. Can you dig that? This thing is one-hundred forty years old! 

Well, no good deed goes unpunished. (Sorry, Mr. Burgess.) By the 1960s, the tree was dying - the result of neglect, improper cutting, and just pain poor care. Mercifully, someone noticed. They called up Bartlett the tree guy, and lo and behold, he stuck his whole arm up inside the poor thing's wound. The elm became a right-and-proper celebrity when in 1967, Brooklyn's own Marianne Moore wrote a poem about it, and helped raise funds to pay for its treatment.

-Parker

THE CAMPERDOWN ELM

I think, in connection with this weeping elm,
of "Kindred Spirits" at the edge of a rockledge
overlooking a stream:
Thanatopsis-invoking tree-loving Bryant
conversing with Thomas Cole
in Asher Durand's painting of them
under the filigree of an elm overhead.

No doubt they had seen other trees -- lindens,
maples and sycamores, oaks and the Paris
street-tree, the horse-chestnut; but imagine
their rapture, had they come on the Camperdown elm's
massiveness and "the intricate pattern of its branches,"
arching high, curving low, in its mist of fine twigs.
The Bartlett tree-cavity specialist saw it
and thrust his arm the whole length of the hollowness
of its torso and there were six small cavities also.

Props are needed and tree-food. It is still leafing;
still there. Mortal though. We must save it. It is
our crowning curio.

-Marianne Moore

camperdown elm canopy photo courtesy of www.prospectpark.org