I wish I knew the name for this little patch of green. There are no visible signs to indicate what it's called so I have simply come to know it as the Caldwell Street Garden.
It is places like this that make living in the inner-city bearable on those days when you need to relax your eyes with green, pat the leaves and rest your feet in the grass.
I have had quite a few of those days recently.
The garden isn't much really, just a tiny triangle of trees and shrubs on the corner of Caldwell and Nimrod streets. But I am so glad it is there.
I remember being told a story once about how developers in the 1980s had eyed the garden off as a potential site for a building. What a waste of good space, they must have thought. Fortunately, others thought differently and there was a small and successful campaign to save what was known as the ''Convict Park''.
I don't know if that story is accurate, or if perhaps the person who told it to me was referring to the park on Surrey Street. If you happen to know, please contact me.
I don't know if that story is accurate, or if perhaps the person who told it to me was referring to the park on Surrey Street. If you happen to know, please contact me.
The garden is basically a small patch of grass with an eclectic mix of plants, two benches and two trees.
If it is a hot day, I often make a little pit-stop here on the way home, to have a little rest and think.
I recruited my horticulturalist friend Ruby Molteno, to come to the garden one day and identify the trees and plants for me. There is one pine type of tree in the street corner, which I forgot to ask her about.
But the focal point of the garden is a Weeping Fig (Ficus Benjamina), pictured above, that has lots of berries hidden amongst the foliage.
The ground-cover (below) is called Tradescantia Zebrina and the ''upright, strappy succulent-like plant'' is some kind of Agave, according to Ruby.
On one of the rocks surrounding a garden bed is this little plaque and dog tag, saying JOJO, surrounded by colourful bits of broken tiles and shells. The plaque reads:
"In memory of our good friend and neighbour, Michael Robertson, 1926-2007."
While walking home from the Caldwell Street Garden the other day, I noticed this paste-up on the wall of the Nimrod Theatre, which sums up my feelings after a moment among the trees perfectly:
