When you live in New York City, nature is nowhere to be found - and yet it's all around you. It's in the rolling hills of a Brooklyn cemetery, it's in the massive green swaths of Central Park. It's in the majestic overlook at the center of the Queensboro Bridge, and it's in the haughty gait of a pigeon strutting down a crowded street. It's even even in the frenetic energy of the subway, as crowds surge and trains rush by. But for me, nature is most present from the urban garden that is my fire escape. From this perch, I am amongst the birds and the tree tops, high above the hot streets and lost tourists. It is from here that I am owner of my own private sliver of quiet sky, and from where I can watch the seasons rush by - rainy spring to sweltering swimmer, the crisp crunch of autumn to the icy chill of winter. This is my nature center, or rather, my center of nature. It's just me and the elements here. And before I have to head down and wage another battle with the city, I take a moment to breathe deeply and take in all that is my concrete jungle.
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