Field Notes

Connecting people and place through urban conservation.

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  • Jevon’s Story

    Jevon’s Story

    The following is a story that will be featured as a part of a series of interviews on perspectives of the environment by Trentonians. It will give Trentonians the opportunity to define their perspective of environmentalism. These interviews will serve as an archive for Trenton’s environmental story.

    “We can’t make assumptions about how people interact with nature…We can’t assume that people who don’t commit to this work aren’t interested.” – William Wilson

    “I’m always trying to tell my parents that they need to go out and do something besides work,” Jevon Lin told me. “They just sleep and work. To me a lot of Trenton is like that – sleep and work.” 

    Jevon Lin is a first-generation American. His parents have bounced around the states, first arriving in Minnesota and later New York, working as restaurant hands. They moved to Trenton over 11 years ago and opened their own restaurant. Jevon himself wears many hats around the restaurant.

    Growing up, Jevon thrived in the structure and culture of school and work. “I did not pay attention to the world around me,” Lin told me. “Back then, I was pretty [self-centered]; focused only on my achievements.”

    But then, COVID lockdowns took away the structure that Jevon thrived in. The bottom fell out for Lin, and he fell into a deep depression. 

    “Years of drowning myself in my work to escape my struggles left me isolated. I didn’t have any support system,” he told me. “I was locked inside all day, forced to face the problems I painted over for so many years.”

    But Jevon wasn’t the only one who suffered. Trenton has a mental health crisis: about 1-in-4 people have/are suffering from poor mental health in NJ. This is a conservative estimate because most people aren’t focusing on their mental health; instead, they’re focusing on their work. 

    Lin argues that Trenton serves as a transition zone. It is a place where people go to earn money before moving on to better places. “No one is thinking about the world around them. It’s just ‘go to work and go to sleep.’ People in Trenton are struggling to make enough money so that they can have a better life, just like my parents,” Lin said.

     Lin sees this routine of work and sleep building into a silent suffering, which forces most people to self-medicate with drugs like alcohol. 

    “One time there was this man in the restaurant,” Lin reflected. “I knew he was drunk, but he seemed in good spirits. After some time with himself while waiting on his food, though, I think that his struggles surfaced. When I brought out his food, his eyes locked with mine. I watched them fill with tears. His mother had passed away the day before. I thought about him a lot after he left. I prayed for his protection. I worried a lot about him and the people that depended on him, like the kids who [probably] now look to him. I really wanted him to come back to the restaurant one day so that I could share my own stories with him and share with him the truths I learned from God during my darkest moments – that men aren’t machines, that we need to acknowledge our mental health with one another. That isn’t possible in the world we live in, though. To me, Trenton has a lot of places to work, but few places to live. So, we suffer.”

    For Lin, the process of getting out of his depression was a gradual one. He told me he found God during his darkest moments, “one night He came to me. That next morning, [when my mom opened the blinds], it was like a new light shined on me. In that light, I saw a tree, and that tree brought me peace.” 

    After lockdown was lifted, Lin took walks around his neighborhood. Whenever he found a tree, it brought him a sense of calm, of renewed peace.

    As school resumed, he joined a science-based mentorship program.

    “Through that program, I visited my mentor once – it was the only time I visited her, but I immediately saw just how many trees Princeton had compared to Trenton. It was like another world,” Lin said. “In Trenton we don’t have trees like that, just stumps and buildings.” 

    I immediately saw just how many trees Princeton had compared to Trenton. It was like another world. In Trenton we don’t have trees like that, just stumps and buildings.” 

    Jevon Lin

    Later, he joined the Trenton Tree Ambassador Program (TAP) through Mercer County Community College’s TRIO Upward Bound Program. Through TAP, Lin learned about the other benefits of trees beyond the mental health and spiritual benefits, “I learned that trees reduce stormwater and make the city cooler. I also learned that they’re a place where animals like birds live.” 

    After high school Lin plans to go to college. He wants to study so that he can come back to Trenton and become a politician. “I want to help make Trenton into a place where people can live,” he told me. 

    “I want to help make Trenton into a place where people can live”

    -Jevon Lin

    For Lin, building a place where people can live means creating more spaces where community members can escape their struggles and reconnect with the calming benefits of nature in a clean and healthy environment. But to do that, he feels that we must remain committed to providing people work; just an alternative to the way we work today.

    “Once, when I was at school, I saw this boy on the stairs sleeping,” Lin recounted. “He told me that he had only 2 hours of sleep the night before because he had to work.” To account for the fact that some students have to help provide for their families, Lin would like to see more opportunities for kids to work and earn a paycheck while developing skills they can use in a career dedicated to building green living spaces for people and our nonhuman kin. 

    Looking toward the future – his future and Trenton’s future – Lin told me, “I want to help build Trenton into a place where people can [root themselves], not just work to move on to the next place.”

    -Harrison

  • Urban Oases: The Ecology of Abandoned Lots

    Urban Oases: The Ecology of Abandoned Lots

    “Vacant Land”
    That is what the sign said.
    I just stood there and scratched my head.
    I simply didn’t understand
    Why they would call this “vacant” land.
    – Mary DeLia

    Alarms ring out; brick towers scrape the sky; cars roar through streets; and sirens shout above it all—but life in the city is not free from the throes of nature. At 5:05 AM, on the nose, a symphony of birds breaks out just beyond my window. By 5:20 AM, they’ve dispersed; only the screech of blue jays remains above the rush of the day.

    Some areas, however, are silent and still from sunrise to sunset. Many people consider these lots “vacant.” But so-called vacant and abandoned lots can serve as quiet oases—flat or overgrown—for wildlife and people alike, just below the bustle.

    A substantial amount of Trenton is abandoned: as many as 10% of all plots across the city are vacant. Many of these plots feature blighted or dilapidated buildings, with owners nowhere to be found—awaiting the day they return to the earth. Other plots have been left compacted and overgrown for years. Tragically, like many cities—from Philadelphia to New York to Boston—Trenton struggles with trash. (And the bigger the city, the bigger the trash problem: our culture of waste has cultivated an aesthetic of litter across America.)

    Vacant lots can be strong attractors for free-roaming litter. In response, cities like Trenton aggressively manage empty plots of land. Workers mow monocultures of grasses to less than half an inch. In efforts to keep up appearances, these areas are often stripped of ecological complexity. But life still finds a way: weeds push through cracks in the pavement, pigeons peck surfaced earthworms, and squirrels squirrel away acorns.

    A far cry from the pristine lawns of Cadwalader and Hiltonia, abandoned lots harbor scores of wildlife—from birds to insects and mammals like groundhogs.

    Once these plots are left behind by their owners and the city mower alike, they enter the early stages of succession—the natural process by which plant communities develop over time. Opportunistic plants (or *weeds*, if you so please) that grow voraciously, seed, and die all in a year begin to populate the disturbed landscape. These species—like crabgrass, crown vetch, garlic mustard, mugwort, and multiflora rose bushes—thrive because the process of laying wood or cement, razing buildings, and later mowing functions a lot like natural disturbances from fires or wind, which create exceptional habitat for annuals.

    These early successional lots are well received by the birds and bees. They also create opportunities for native species like butterfly weed, yarrow, penstemon, black-eyed Susans, and bee balm to reclaim green spaces.

    This makes abandoned plots exceptional sites to build pollinator meadows. Native species, unlike traditional weeds, send roots deep into the soil. In combination with burrowing insects, like carpenter bees, and active soil dwellers, these adventurous plants can increase the porosity of compacted soil—allowing water and nutrients to move more freely and support plant health.

    Over time, these early successional lots can be replaced by slower-growing perennial species like shrubs. Under ideal conditions, these shrubs provide food that benefits from abundant pollinator populations. This, of course, is good for community members as well—particularly those who steward local gardens in need of pollination. These mid-successional lots can also improve air quality, reduce stormwater runoff, and cool ambient temperatures.

    Just stopping there would serve a city well, but succession can reach its climax when tree seeds buried by squirrels mature into forests. We recognize the value of forests, but we may not always envision their possibility in an abandoned lot stricken by litter. No longer, then, would the birds I enjoy during the early hours of the day cease their songs before they’ve even begun. Instead, with forests overlaying pristine soils that have grown on abandoned lots, we might enjoy bird songs, groundhog burrows, and fox dens right inside our bustling town centers.

    It’s something I aim to achieve with my own meadow project at the corner of Montgomery and Perry Streets in downtown Trenton. Only in its first year, my meadow is a beautiful mix of crown vetch, dandelion, wild bergamot, black-eyed Susans, blazing star, Indiangrass, Virginia rye, plantain weeds, endive, and clover. I see myself as part of that successional process—one that will one day provide insects, birds, mammals, and children a healthy environment to enjoy.

    Montgomery & Perry Street Lot
    Prepping the site.
    Meadow in progress!

    So next time you pass a “vacant” lot, try looking closely—you just might find a world teeming with life.

    – Harrison

  • Training Trees to Stand Tall

    On Friday, July 19, our Tree leaders and Youth Inclusion Initiative Interns joined New Jersey Tree
    Foundation    ’s Green streets crew, led by James Cunningham along West State Street to
    stake trees. Staking trains young trees that lean to grow upright.

    NJTF Green Streets Crew demonstrates tree staking on a honey locust tree planted last fall on West State Street.

    Leaning is not a problem when trees are small – think 15 feet or less – but as they grow these trees can become hazards for drivers and pedestrians alike: leaning trees can either fall into the street, pull apart the sidewalk, or tumble over walkers-by. And leaning trees that grow into wires can even topple electric poles.

    Before: Waiting for the group to gather and go over how to properly stake this leaning tree.
    After: This tree is now staked and ready to grow straight and strong, helping prevent future issues for the community.

    Thankfully, staking is a simple procedure: the green streets crew hammered stakes into the ground; after, they taught our interns and tree leaders how to tie the trees to stakes for proper tree growth. All our students took turns finishing off staking with great applause! The trees can only be staked for up to two growing seasons (or years), however, after which point the stakes will need to be
    removed. Otherwise, trees will incorporate the ties into their wood. Moving forward, we’ll
    be carefully monitoring the leaning trees to help them stand up straight and tall.

    -Harrison

  • Welcome

    Welcome

    Welcome to OEA Field Notes!
    This blog shares snapshots from the field—stories of trees, meadows, and the people caring for them. At the Outdoor Equity Alliance, we believe the outdoors should reflect the communities that surround them. We support and uplift youth and community members as they lead the way in shaping a greener, more just future in Trenton and beyond.

    — The OEA Team