Whenever I step into a train marked World Trade Center, I feel a jolt of sadness and memories of that magnificent, bright, clear, and desperately painful September–not only the 11th, but the weeks that followed–come flooding back. A few months ago, when the tulips were still in bloom, I took a different route downtown, the Lexington Avenue line to Bowling Green. Still the sadness was there.
But when I arrived, my mood changed from sadness to a feeling that was larger, richer, and deeper–more all-encompassing.
The southern tip of Manhattan is a highly evocative place under any circumstances, but the gardens designed by Piet Oudolf have added something magnificent to this piece of earth that is as old as the city itself, transforming the shards and ashes of my city’s history into a vista of sweeping beauty.