Emma Marris’s concept of the rambunctious garden is that of, in simple terms, manmade nature. It requires profuse human involvement in conservation, unlike many of the other methods that she criticizes in her book, Rambunctious Garden: Saving Nature in a Post-Wild World. In accordance with this notion of the rambunctious garden, Marris deems it possible and to a certain extent necessary for humans to coexist with nature. Furthermore, this can occur in basically any environment, regardless of whether it is rural or urban or something else entirely. Humans can actively incorporate nature into their lives and surroundings and allow it to flourish while still functioning undisturbed alongside it.
An abandoned railroad track in the middle of Manhattan is probably the last place one would think to find nature. In the heart of what is often considered to be the world’s greatest urban area lies the High Line. Preserved in the hopes of forming a pedestrian walkway, the elevated area that lies just west of 10th Avenue between 13th and 34th Streets began to sprout vegetation after its use as a commercial rail line ceased. Eventually, the pedestrian walkway became a reality, and since then the High Line has become a beautiful attraction, offering a peaceful walkway with plenty of benches for pedestrians that is barricaded on both sides by greenery.
In my opinion, the High Line matches up perfectly with the definition of a rambunctious garden. Human hands constructed the whole space from before it even became the High Line, and the site continues to be influenced by humans in several ways on a daily basis. For example, it is maintained by humans in order to ensure that the vegetation survives and continues to bloom as well as remains on the sides of the walkway. An article by Richard Stalter, entitled “The flora on the High Line, New York City, New York,” only enhances my aforementioned opinion of the High Line being a rambunctious garden with its observations on the human interaction regarding the park. According to Stalter, “human visitors to the High Line have probably inadvertently transported seeds to the site, a source of new species,” (387) which plays a factor in its high species richness and diversity. As for human coexistence with the High Line and the park’s endurance of the urban extremity that is Manhattan, it seems to be doing just fine. There are most likely a large handful of New Yorkers that are not aware that the High Line is even present, and they are not living their lives any differently because of it. This goes to show that we really can have nature in our own backyards, as Marris suggests. Even in New York City, with “drought stress in dry weather, low fertility of soil, human trampling and cutting vegetation, and the smothering of plants by debris such as tires, bottles and additional trash,” (387) the High Line has continued to prosper. Some of it is even shaded by the city’s signature skyscrapers, but that hasn’t stopped the nature in that spot from developing. Thus, although it initially seems rather unlikely, the High Line possesses all of the qualities of a rambunctious garden, which in turn helps support Marris’s argument that such a thing really is possible and beneficial.
(I’m in the middle)
