Crops in the Hood
Every year the rich land beneath the hood produces a bumper crop of heirloom tomatoes, cucumbers, lemons, and, this year, giant 12-foot-tall sunflowers that I grew from seeds. Later on, we'll have giant pumpkins, too. Maybe it's the sunshine and fertile soil. Maybe it's the stimulating vibrations of passing cars with the stereos set on "stun". But my garden is amazing.

Science in the Hood
For years, I've been driving past the Brookdale Park on High Street. There's a little rec center, and to the left of that, a small brown house that always seems to have some kids hanging around it, a couple of stripped bicycles chained to the battered wooden steps leading up to it. On Saturday, I pulled the (unpimped) Volvo up to the rec center to take advantage of their car washing services. How could I resist the siren call of 4 little kids beating on drums and rhythmically chanting "Car wash! Car wash!"?
We hung around while the car was being washed, my daughter dramatically complaining of how bored she was until I hissed at her "You're lucky I don't drop you off to wash cars all day right here!"
I decided we would visit the little brown house and see what it was all about. We walked over and up those battered brown steps.
Inside was the powerful aroma of chickens and rabbits, along with the chickens and rabbits themselves. A bird in a cage. All stuffed into a petite, play-house-sized space. In the next room was the former kitchen. The operator of the center, a nice, paunchy, balding guy, greeted us in an exhausted but kind and quiet way. "Here we do science, people who get tired of their pets drop them off so everyone can enjoy them. In there," pointing to the antiquated kitchen -- "we do chemistry experiments." We walked around the corner. It was all so small! There was also an art room.
The floors buckled under my feet. There was clearly need of additional funds. There were calm, quiet kids in that space, though, ready to do chemistry, or art and pottery, or just to feed a piece of celery to the guinea pig. As my daughter did when the nice director guy quietly handed it to her.