Editor's page

Of Gardens, Giros and Comedy Girls

Bob Capazzo

Welcome to May, the month of budding hope, blossoms and bees. Except we seem to have a problem with the bees.

Since starring Weston beekeeper Howard Blackiston in our “Honeyed Life” story last fall, writer Leslie Chess Feller told us that when he went out to check his hives this spring, he got a real shock: His bees had buzzed off en masse. Could it be the stress-related mystery ailment called Colony Collapse Disorder that’s made the news lately? Apparently hives shipped all over the country by commercial beekeepers are arriving empty or full of dead bees. Since honeybees pollinate 80 percent of the food we eat, they are big business. Or taking it further, as Albert Einstein once said: “If the honeybee disappeared off the surface of the globe, then man would only have two years left to live.” But some experts point out that such crises are not new; they’re just reported 24/7 these days. And bees have managed to survive for thousands of years. So take heart.

As always in May, we focus on gardening  and landscaping. The Landman garden harkens back to the estate gardens of early Greenwich; the story of the Environmental Defense’s Fred Krupp is timely, inspiring and involves a number of very concerned Greenwich people. And we tip our hat to the Garden Education Center on its fiftieth anniversary.

In our special section on Stamford, Chris Hodenfield takes a close look at the high-rise boom going on next door. Do we see a mini-Manhattan as our closest neighbor? Or is it about time for a cleanup south of the thruway?

On the lighter side, writer Jane Kendall, a funny lady herself, had a great time talking to two Greenwich women turned professional comedians. Wish I’d been a fly on the wall for those interviews. Wonder what she had to leave out of the piece? And writer Anne Semmes came up with the history of some of our pioneer Greenwich aviators, the types who took themselves out to Armonk Airport for a little stunt flying on Sunday afternoons. One of them, a debutante named Do White, was known to fly over to Long Island for parties. On her way to Oyster Bay one afternoon, she spotted an ice cream vendor on a beach, landed her seaplane in the water, waded in for a cone and asked the sunbathers to help push her into position for takeoff. Meanwhile, her parents were piloting their giro, or autogiro — an early version of the helicopter — to Miami for vacation. Only in Greenwich? Well, maybe not.

Have an interesting read.