The Battery Urban Farm: An Overlooked Oasis in the Rush of Downtown Manhattan
By Claire Greenburger and Harper Everett
The Battery Urban Farm is situated at the bustling, southernmost tip of Manhattan. To the East, glass high rises tower over the farm, stealing valuable sunlight from the growing crops. To the West, lies the Hudson River. The bright orange Staten Island ferry floats routinely across the river. The Statue of Liberty pokes through the tree canopies in the distance.
We meet our tour guide, Adam Walker, the Program Coordinator at The Battery Conservancy, at the entrance of the farm. Walker is dressed in a dark brown Battery tee shirt with the printed, blue “B” logo. He wears dusted brown khaki shorts and athletic sneakers. Polarized Smith sunglasses hang from his neck. His Reebok face mask is clipped to his belt loop with a silver carabiner. No overalls, Carhartts, or cowboy hat — Walker is a true “urban farmer.” He has the appearance of a part-time Equinox trainer. Walker’s enthusiasm for urban farming is contagious. I could easily imagine him engaging groups of distractible second graders.
Countless vendors fill The Battery: women selling cups of grapes, watermelon, cucumber and sliced mango, Nathan’s hotdogs, and pretzel stands. The line is particularly long outside the ice cream stand on this humid July morning.
The gate to the farm, designed by a local artist, features a metal collage of people, plants, and pollinators. Just three decades ago, “there were broken benches…not a lot of vibrant gardens…and it was the president or founder, Morgan Price, [who] started the conservancy, to try to revitalize the area.”
Though the garden often hosts school groups and tours, we are the only visitors at the farm on this overcast Monday morning. Sweet peppers, cucumber, kale, rice, basil, and broccoli are neatly arranged in rows of soil beds. The swiss chard catches my eye: it bursts from yellow and red stems into vibrant green leaves. Dainty yellow flowers bloom from the strong-standing okra plants: they are lined-up side by side like little urban warriors.
The first crop Walker gives us to taste is the cucamelon — a crop in the cucumber family that looks like a miniature watermelon. Its thick skin pops in my mouth like a baby tomato but is more sour than a normal cucumber. The snap peas — which Walker remarks as “extra fibrous” — are crunchy and just sweet enough. I pluck the brightest orange tomato and am shocked by its bursting flavors. Adam gives us leaves to muddle between my fingertips, which releases a minty aroma and reminds me of a fresh mojito.
The Battery Urban Farm is a true ecological haven. Native leaf cutter bees, which have specifically adapted to pollinate native New York City plants, rest on the lavender flowers. An orange monarch butterfly catches my eye — it flutters around the Orange Butterfly Weed, where they lay their eggs and metamorphose into butterflies. Black swallowtail butterflies camouflage against the yellow fennel plants. For a moment, the butterflies formed a crown around our tour guide’s head: even the butterflies love Walker.
“We get Monarch butterflies that are migrating through. So in September, we have a lot of Monarch butterflies in all of our gardens, because they are in the middle of their migration,” said Walker.
In addition to the butterflies, the pollinators help tremendously with the native plants. Compared to honey bees, “leafcutter bees are really evolved in [the] area, and are specifically adapted to pollinate our native plants,” Walker continued.
Walker worries about squirrels eating the harvest. So, he is sure to plant enough food for them, too. Luckily, he notes, there are red tail hawks who pass through the park and scare the squirrels away.
At times, it is difficult to hear Walker over the idling trucks, passing planes, screaming sirens, and tour groups. One particular tour guide in a camouflage, pink tank top and a silver, luminescent backpack shouts, “IMMIGRATION STARTED HAPPENING HERE IN 1845– GIGANTIC! HUGE! GROUPS OF PEOPLE! THOUSANDS! They came here to change their whole lives in the hope of a better life for their children.”
The local puppies seem equally enthused by the green space. Black poodles, golden retrievers, and bushy-tailed Maltese puppies dash in circles, playing fetch with their owners on the lawn by the farm. Over the course of the tour, the neighboring Battery Lawn fills with young people. They gather in the arranged, blue chairs to socialize, share a coffee, and smoke cigarettes.
Walker takes us over to the forest farm on the other side of the conservancy. We enter through “the Labyrinth of Contemplation.” A path under overgrown tree canopies leads us to a downtown NYC oasis. Suddenly, the sirens, tour groups, and planes silence, and the sounds of chirping birds amplify in their place. A spiral of stones forms an artwork at our feet. Willow Oaks and London Plane Trees circle us.
Walker points out the elderberry trees, gooseberries, mugwort, and fern — many of which, he says, have medicinal properties. Walker notes that an overgrown space like this does more to conserve soil, gather rainwater, and sequester carbon. He hopes to see more parks develop wilder sections like this.
We weed whack through more plants to the park’s beehive. Some of our group members stand back, but Walker assures us that the honeybees won’t bother us. The hives are painted yellow with drawn on window frames, mirroring the yellow taxi pulling up behind them.
We look out at the river in the distance, and Walker tells us about his dream of “compost barges floating across the rivers.”
The neighboring playground could easily be confused with a work of art, with steep, statuesque slides made of granite, and highly-curated gardens composed of salt-water resistant plants. It is a “resilient playground,” designed to withstand flooding from storms. The park features a climbing wall and a Seaglass Carousel with a spiraling roof of glass and steel.
A sign outside the “Playscape” reads, “Created with the generosity of private individuals.”
Additional reporting provided by Libby Lin.
