Narrows Botanical Gardens

The Narrows Botanical Gardens lie amid the strip of parkland just south of the Bay Ridge Pier in Brooklyn – the northern tip of Shore Park, really. It's a small wonderland I learned about recently from a Roger Clark NY1 TV report – but it's been here since 1995.

We were visiting the neighborhood a few weekends ago via the NYC Ferry. (Bay Ridge Pier is the last stop on the South Brooklyn Route). Stopping by, we found the Gardens closed. But as this is a pretty narrow space, it's easy to see inside.

The Narrows Botanical Gardens website lists events like movie nights, a springtime planting event, and in the fall a Harvest Festival and Canine Costume Contest. Bees and butterflies buzzing and flitting were the only activity when we visited.

Condé Nast Traveler ranked the NBG one of New York City's "Outstanding Urban Gardens" – along with the likes of Fort Tryon Park, Wave Hill, and the Brooklyn Botanic Garden – in a 2013 feature, pointing out "a butterfly garden, a zen garden, two rose gardens, a lily pond, and a turtle sanctuary." I'd love to get a better look at those one day. The website doesn't say when the Gardens are open, though. My guess is that, as with many of these places, availability of personnel to open and oversee is irregular.

Meantime, take a look at the website for a photo of what the site looked like back in 1941. What a testament to the power of community and imagination.

All photos © Jon Sobel, Critical Lens Media

Fort Hamilton Triangle

Alexander Hamilton is much in the news these days. For one thing, at the same time as he's threatened with eviction from the $20 bill, he has a hit musical opening on Broadway. Meanwhile, his old home, Hamilton Grange, peacefully resides uptown in St. Nicholas Park.

Fort Hamilton Triangle, by contrast, is a petite plaza in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn between 94th and 95th Streets, where Fourth Avenue – because of one of the countless quirks of New York City's street-naming scheme and geography – meets Fifth Avenue.

The day I walked by, the gate was locked. Had it been open, I could have gone in and had a nice sit, I suppose, my feet kicking the bluestone. Years ago many sidewalks around the city were paved with this beautiful stone. But it's too expensive to replace, so when sidewalks need to be redone the bluestone is replaced by characterless concrete.

There was no sign of the gangs of pigeons whose presence resulted in a temporary, unofficial name change to "Pigeon Park."

But this isn't Vanishing New York, so let's take a look at what's actually here, which will come as no surprise to readers of this blog: It's a memorial to the men of Fort Hamilton "who died in the World War" and "those who answered their country's call."

The Great War, that is. The War to End All Wars.

Specifically, these are the names of the soldiers who trained at nearby Fort Hamilton and served during World War I. Fort Hamilton itself dates from the 1820s, and is still in active use, housing "over 200 Army Reserve and National Guard units" according to the Parks Department website. Entered into the National Register of Historic Places in 1974, it's also the only currently active military post in New York City.

The name "Fort Hamilton" designates the fort's surrounding neighborhood, too, though the area is also considered part of Bay Ridge. And speaking of the neighborhood, in case the memorial and the nearby military base don't inspire enough patriotism, take a walk by the stupendously flag-draped Engine 242 firehouse nearby. While you're there, notice the quirky, Coney Island-style signage on the storefronts, which contrasts with the banner hawking trendy "Craft Spirits & Cocktails" at the bar next door to the firehouse.

John J. Carty Park

I've been servicing my car in Bay Ridge for at least a decade, and only just now discovered that there's a park a few blocks away.

The location of John J. Carty Park, affectionately known as "JJ Carty," under the Verrazano Bridge feeder ramps doesn't make for a pastoral landscape. But its history is tied to the great bridge's, as the Parks Department asserts: "The Triborough Bridge and Tunnel Authority developed both the Verrazano Narrows Bridge (1965) and this park concurrently thanks to a 1956 federal grant."

It's also known as Rubber Park because, according to Wikipedia, it was one of the first city parks with rubber matting under the children's play areas. (Not for the other reason any number of city parks could be called that.)

Rubber matting probably isn't needed under the Fort Hamilton Senior Recreation Center, which is in the southern tip of the park by 100th Street.

John J. Carty, who lived nearby, was a longtime First Deputy City Comptroller, and not to be confused with engineer and inventor John J. Carty, though the latter also had a New York City connection, becoming Chief Engineer of the Metropolitan Telephone and Telegraph Company in 1889.

The park is really a row of separate spaces devoted to different activities. The best greenery comes from some lush trees just outside the park's northern end. Are these hickory trees? Ash? If anyone knows, please leave a comment below.

A peaceful sitting area contains a monument to the explorer Giovanni da Verrazano himself.

The lawns are thin and parched-looking right now, but the water jet was spraying enthusiastically on a happy toddler. After sinking into a state of relative neglect for awhile, JJ Carty got a bit of a touch-up during a recent spruce-up event.

Step south, and an expanse of barren concrete sweeps up to a bridge ramp.

The tennis courts are not terribly well maintained – their Global Tennis Network listing has a blank space after "amenities" – but they look usable.

The farther south you go, the bleaker things look. If I'd approached from the lower end and walked up, this post might have a different aesthetic arc, even with the exact same photos.

In any case, given the location, it's nice there's a park here at all.

Owl's Head Park

Nestled along the western Brooklyn coast, Owl's Head Park is 24 acres of rolling hills, grassland, trees, and paths that take you far enough away from the neighborhood of Bay Ridge – quiet enough in the first place – that it can be hard to believe you're still in the city.



In the photo above you can glimpse the bay on the left. A path will take you almost to the water, in fact. It was awfully quiet in Owl's Head Park on the unseasonably warm and beautiful early March day of my visit, a perfect day for an escape from city life. A few people idling on benches, a few children playing, but very easy to wander into the middle of a seeming nowhere.



What can I say? I'm a sucker for gnarly roots.



A couple of moms pushed strollers in the distance:



Turning back towards the entrance, the vista of houses and apartment buildings does remind us that we are, in fact, still in New York City. But Owl's Head Park, the origin of whose name is unknown, provides ample opportunity for an extended break from a busy life.