When I moved to the city, I pretty much wrote off any expected interactions with nature. I left green grass and giant oak trees in Florida, right? Wrong (sort of). While I do my best to avoid oak trees (I recently found out I'm allergic, go figure), I do appreciate the occasional lunch among the trees while pretending to read a book but actually plotting an Instagram post of the unnaturally yellow flowers.
The East Village may be crawling with bars and housing last night's stories that are better left at said bars, but it's also home to some of my favorite "secret gardens." And by secret I mean generally known to East Villagers and less known to us Upper East Siders.
[Miracle Garden; Avenue B and Third Street, East Village]
[Photographed in the East Village wearing Big Star jeans, a thrifted tee, and Nine West booties]