It started with the accusations of sex behind the back pond. Of late-night parties that begot stitches and adultery. Favoritism. Misspending. Bullying.
Since then, the police have been called, e-mail access has been revoked and Roberts Rules of Order repeatedly cited. Expletives have been tossed around. Herb lovers have nearly come to blows.
A toolshed burned to the ground; the word arson was uttered.
So goes life these days at the Roosevelt Island Garden Club, where palace intrigue surrounding the garden presidency has grown as abundant as the daffodils, organic vegetables and lazy cats that populate this speck of earth in the middle of the New York City map.
---
