Humble Parquito

 

Humble Parquito before the plants fill in.  5/11/13

In the spring of 2012, I began my internship with Friends of the Parks, a non-profit parks advocacy organization in Chicago.  My role was site steward for what was then called the Dunning-Read Conservation Area (DRCA), now the Dunning Read Natural Area.  The Dunning Read Natural Area is located on the grounds of the Chicago-Read Mental Health Center, about one block from my mom’s house where I had lived from the time I was fourteen until I bought my first house just a few miles away.  During my internship, I spent most weekends there, helping to lead programs and habitat restoration efforts while drafting a site management plan. 

From the files

Not long into my internship, I received an email from my manager, stating that a local beekeeper expressed interest in setting up hives on site.  After a few back and forth emails, the beekeeper and I agreed to meet on-site to determine the best location for the hives.  I met the beekeeper - Marcin - out back by the red shed on a pleasant sunny day.  I took a liking to Marcin pretty much right away.  He explained why setting up the hives at the base of a gentle south-facing slope would work best, but the site engineer vetoed that vote and recommended an area next to a large radio tower.  Marcin maintained that the tower area was too shaded for the bees.  A little more back and forth, and we determined that putting hives at the DRCA just wasn’t going to work out.  

Later that summer, Marcin reached out once again and asked if he and his beekeeping crew could use the site to host their National Honey Bee Day festivities.  I regretted that we were never able to accommodate his desire to install hives on site so I approved and helped set up the event.  Marcin and his scrappy beekeeper crew came through that hot August day, with a tent, honey tastings, and some educational materials.  For being in a crumbling, weedy parking lot of a mental health facility, the event went pretty well.  

Marcin struck me as a down to earth kind of guy.  He was a tall, bearish figure, sporting long hair tucked behind a bandanna and a chin goatee.  These attributes belied his gentle and deliberate demeanor.  If there was one thing I picked up from him early on, it was his fascination with honey bees and his willingness to educate others.  A clear parallel existed between us - we both were really - and I mean REALLY - into things most people misunderstand and often fear.  It’s an ethos rare as hen’s teeth.  These are the kind of people you want to hang on to.

At some point, Marcin invited me to a community garden he and his crew had built on three empty lots at 1630-1634 Richmond Street in Humboldt Park.  Upon entering the garden, my mind was blown.  The garden was lush and full of fruits and vegetables growing in well-manicured plots.  Everything was available to neighbors who needed fresh food but couldn’t find or afford it.  There was a big stack of rain barrels catching water off of an adjacent apartment building (1638) and an ingenious watering system tapped into each garden plot.  There was a mulched path for visitors to use and local artwork all over.  There was even a wooden outhouse where one could piss into a biodegradable mixture of sawdust.  

Photo courtesy of the Humble Parquito Facebook page

And of course, the bee hives.  There were lots of hives here, some Marcin’s and some belonging to local members of his crew.  It was an incredibly tranquil environment in the midst of a bustling neighborhood.  This was Humble Parquito, a true up-and-coming place for community involvement, networking, and reflection.

Marcin, 2013

Before I knew it, I became a regular here.  The 2013 National Honey Bee Day festivities were held here, which attracted people from the neighborhood and beyond.  Marcin organized bonfires during the summer/winter solstice and spring/fall equinox.  Everyone would bring a plate to share, and while I’m a big-time introvert, I found good company here.

Marcin offering a true beekeeping experience to visitors on National Honey Bee Day in 2013

Sometimes it was hard to remind ourselves that the land Humble Parquito occupied was borrowed, and that at any moment, this thing that so many people created could be wiped clean, and fast.  And that’s exactly what happened.  In March of 2014, I received a text from Marcin notifying me that the lots had been sold to a developer.  Humboldt Park had become the next Logan Square and thousands of suburban/out of state hipsters wanted to live there.  The following eulogy was posted on the Humble Parquito Facebook page on March 14th, 2014:

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted (Ecclesiastes 3:1-2)…our time is coming to an end at 1630 North Richmond.”

 A late night emergency meeting was held on an adjacent lot, across the alley at 1621 Humboldt Boulevard.  Most of the Humble Parquito crew was there, in the darkness and battling the cold wind.  There was a feeling of defeat amongst the attendees, yet Marcin had little time for sorrow.  That night, a plan was proposed to relocate Humble Parquito to this new site.  Feelings varied.  Most were understandably attached to the “OG” Humble Parquito, and crushed to learn its fate.  There was also the lingering concern that 1621 Humboldt might not last long either.  Ultimately, all went home that night knowing that there might never be a Humble Parquito ever again.  

I wasn’t present when Marcin and members of his crew were forced to clear the garden in preparation for development. It happened so fast.  It could not have been an easy task, physically or mentally.  

In 2014, three modern single-family homes were erected where Humble Parquito once flourished. The Humble Parquito crew half-heartedly maintained the new Humble Parquito at 1621 Humboldt for a few years until the eviction notice came through. The very last bonfire occurred there on December 21st, 2016 - winter solstice. In 2018, a large condominium was constructed there.

The new Humble Parquito in July 2014. Photo courtesy of the Humble Parquito Facebook page

Former site of Humble Parquito

Losing Humble Parquito was a crushing loss.  But one thing Marcin understood is that friendship transcends a place.  Yes, Humble Parquito was an opportunity, a meeting place.  But its demise couldn’t stop what it had created.  Eventually, Marcin would leave the city and relocate to an exurban part of Elgin, in a small, old homestead awkwardly surrounded on three sides by large-scale new development.  There, against a backdrop of drab tan condos and uninspired single family homes, he continues tending to his bees and gardening, seemingly unfazed by the greedy land grabbing and rapid suburban sprawl.  And he still hosts bonfires, where his aging crew still regularly meets.

In a way, Humble Parquito lives on.

In loving memory of Christine DiMiceli

The OG crew

The tradition continues. 2025

Marcin and my daughter, 2025

The Berry Tavern: A Night in the Root Cellar

Fortunatus Berry couldn't have imagined the horror that would surround his stone root cellar when he built it in 1840.

At that time, the settler from New York was running his tavern in the mining settlement of Gratiot's Grove, just south of Shullsburg, in the Wisconsin Territory.  In fact, he had just constructed the new tavern and root cellar to replace the obsolete structure he built in 1829, shortly after he arrived in Gratiot's Grove.  His business was picking up as the busy route leading to the lead mines directed weary stagecoach travelers past the tavern and inn.  He built the stone root cellar outside the tavern to store food (and maybe alcohol) needed to satiate the numerous guests.

The wood cellar at dusk (the root cellar is underground and accessible through a small opening in the back)

Less than a decade later, the tavern would change hands, becoming the Lamar House.  It was during this time that one of the saddest and most macabre events in the region's history took place.  In the summer of 1854, a cholera epidemic was sweeping across the Midwest, leaving thousands dead in cities like St. Louis and Chicago.  Cholera reached Gratiot's Grove and the bustling Lamar House via rail camp to stage line and wreaked havoc upon the unsuspecting tenants.  Within days of exposure, eleven guests succumbed.  Among the dead were the local doctor and coffin builder.  With the dead bodies rapidly accumulating and nowhere (and no one) to bury them, the eleven bodies were wrapped in gunny sacks and stacked in the root cellar to await burial amidst the panic and uncertainty of the time.  Eventually, the dead were buried near the tavern in a small, makeshift cemetery (six more tenants would die after leaving the inn, leaving a total of seventeen dead).

In addition to the doctor and coffin maker, there were children who died.  Some of the headstones were later found during road construction, and the cemetery has since been restored near its unknown original location.  

Today, the property is privately owned and undergoing a long process of restoration.  Every year, a fundraiser is held onsite, with music, food, and games.  In 2024, I was offered the opportunity to spend the night in the root cellar.  The idea became a bit of a novelty, with respect to those who perished long ago.  This year, I took the owners up on their offer.

So, after the day's festivities had concluded, and the last of the site had been cleaned up, and the last set of taillights faded into the distance, I prepared for a night inside the dark, musty, and silent depths of the root cellar.  I noticed the moonless midnight sky was awash in stars, a sight I very rarely get to enjoy, living thirty miles from Chicago.  I laid down on a picnic table and looked at space for awhile.  Speechless.

Inside the root cellar, I laid out my bedding atop a single layer of plastic pallet mattresses.  When the light went out, the insects and spiders came alive, but it wasn't anything I couldn't deal with.  I slept well.  I am not superstitious, I do not believe in spirits or ghosts or "negative energies" or anything like that.  

I woke up around 6:00 AM, a little stiff, but well-rested.  I wish I had a lot more to say about my experience to make it seem more sensational, but it was exactly what it was, a complete and rather literal immersion into history, and the kind of unconventional experience I cherish.

Finally, I encourage anyone reading this to visit the Berry Tavern and to support Friends of Berry Tavern.  Good people just trying to keep history alive and well in an increasingly rootless society.

Portugal: The Edge of the World

 "Portugal sits on the edge of the world, where the land ends and the sea begins, where dreams merge with reality." - Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen, 1960

From Gibraltar, we returned to Seville to drop off our rental car, and took a taxi to Faro.  In Faro, we rented another car, and drove to Porches.  We stayed in the same area as we did two years ago (2024) because we just really love the area, and it's relatively affordable and the people are great.

Because it was so hot during the day, and because freshwater bodies are far and few between, I figured that oases might be good places to hike and search for herps.  Funny story I'll never live down - I found a river that flowed into the ocean, and took my family there.  Because I was focusing on the natural environment and not the people, it didn't occur to me until my wife told me later on that that particular beach was "clothing optional".  Only at that point did I notice.  Oops.  We had a good laugh and she still teases me that THAT may have been the reason I drove us there.  

Ruins (sans herps...way too hot)

Later that evening, a walk along the rugged and famous Algarve coastline.

I found the most incredible beach dune habitat I've ever seen, in Portugal.

Iberian pond turtle (Mauremys leprosa)

Another.  There were several in a marsh as we approached the dunes.  It was refreshing to see native (and vulnerable) turtles and not invasive species.

Spiny rush (Juncus acutus)

Curry plant (Helichrysum italicum) in foreground

Sea rose (Armeria pungens)

Sea daffodil (Pancratium maritinum)

An exceptional insect...

...the vulnerable Algarve sand grasshopper (Sphingonotus imitans)

An absolute beauty, the fairy-like two-winged spoonwing (Nemoptera bipennis) at rest

Sea holly (Eryngium maritinum)

It was like the coral reef of beach dunes

A few shots from where we stayed.

Large psammodromus (Psammodromus algirus)

Just as in 2024, these Iberian waterfrogs (Pelophylax perezi) were abundant, especially at night, and we caught dozens.

A clear, spring-fed stream at Paisagem Protegida Local da Fonte da Benémola

We had to fly out of Lisbon, so we drove there and spent a night before our flight home.  My cousin lives there, so once we settled into our hotel, we took an Uber to Praça do Comércio, a large public square, to meet her and to watch a World Cup qualifying game with thousands of Portuguese soccer fans (France vs Norway, France won). I am not particularly interested in soccer, but it was a surreal experience, and an appropriately ironic way to end our adventure.

The Rock of Gibraltar

 After time in Madrid and Seville, we continued south toward Gibraltar, a quirky British Overseas Territory near the southern tip of Spain.  We got through customs and then to our hotel after a bit of VERY tight driving through some of the most narrow hilly roads I've ever driven on.

For those not really familiar with Gibraltar, it is an area of about 2.6 square miles and roughly 34,000 residents. There is a very distinctive sense that the British who live there are very defensive about their territory, which they gained in 1713 following the Treaty of Utrecht.  Signs declaring Britain's vow to never give up Gibraltar were commonly seen posted in windows of homes and some businesses.  Great Britain may own it, but the Spanish run it, at least based on my observations and interactions.

View of "the rock" from our hotel

The Calentita Food Festival was taking place the evening we arrived so we decided to check it out.  There were food and craft vendors, live music, and dancing.  I felt reasonably certain that we were the only Americans present.  It was important that I took this all in because this was a very genuine experience few Americans get to witness.

Children representing symbols of Gibraltar - including gulls and barbary macaques

We of course ventured to the top of the rock to see the famous barbary macaques.  We don't do tours so we did it on our own.  About 300 macaques live atop the rock, originating as imports from northern Africa during the Middle Ages.  The Gibraltar population acts as a sort of insurance population for the endangered species as numbers in Africa are reported to be decreasing due to habitat loss and other anthropogenic factors.  

Despite all of the warnings about feeding or touching the macaques, there were several tour guides openly feeding the animals small pieces of food to attract them toward tourists so that tourists can have their photos taken with a macaque on their shoulders.  Tour guides driving vans would pull up on a group of macaques and tempt them with food; the macaques would often jump on the moving van to the delight of the tourists.  If a macaque began acting aggressively for food, the tour guide would pull out his long stick with a rubber snake attached and poke it toward the macaque, which frightened the animal away.

This whole scenario was disheartening, to say the least.  Generations of these animals have become habituated to this exercise and people see these wild animals as circus monkeys.  I would implore anyone interested in seeing these animals to NOT hire one of these tour guides or give in to the urge to touch the animals.  One group of British teenagers, having watched one of the tour guides man-handle a young macaque, stupidly tried doing it without offering food and the macaque took a spirited swipe at them.  They laughed like idiots, but part of me wished they had been bitten and contracted some zoonotic disease. 

This is about as close as anyone should get to a wild macaque (they are cute)

This mom was not happy with me interrupting feeding time, so I left them to do their thing in privacy (I was further away than it appears in this photo)

A piss-poor photo of an Andalusian wall lizard (Podarcis vaucheri)

There are few accessible natural areas in Gibraltar.  Commonwealth Park contains a pond with map turtles (Graptemys sp.) and Iberian water frogs (Pelophylax perezi) as well as some invasive red swamp crayfish.  Trafalgar Cemetery provided a much-needed shaded space during a very hot day.  An acquaintance of mine, Francis Cosquieri, was raised in Gibraltar and knows the place like the back of his hand.  He recommended that I hike the Northern Defenses, a series of 18th century fortifications that sees little traffic and offers the potential for herp sightings.  Because we didn't start where we were supposed to, we got quite turned around trying to find an access point to the Northern Defenses.  It was very hot and we were mostly walking up steep avenues and maybe into peoples' yards...I had no idea what I was doing.  Our patience ran thin, but before tempers boiled over, we found the tucked-away access and were finally there.  We enjoyed some relief from the oppressive heat in the form of old bunkers or some sort of old stone shelters.  Herp diversity was limited to the widespread Moorish geckos (Tarentola mauritanica) darting in and out of the stone structures.  The real highlights were the amazing plants that grew here, including Creten Viper's-bugloss, throatwort, greater snapdragon, common poppy, and gold coin.

Seen on the way to Northern Defenses

Moorish gecko

Look at those boards!  Yes, I flipped them, but it was far too hot for anything to be there.  On the right day, though...

Gold coin (Pallenis maritima)

Gibraltar is a great place, but for us it's a one and done.  It is much too small and too built up for additional visits.  Portugal, on the other hand, WAS worth another trip, and so it was to be the final leg of this year's European vacation.