Got Space For a Tree? Rooting Down Upper West Side Style

By Yvonne Vávra

It’s about to get wild again. A new chapter of ravage, sex, and death is coming to the city — the saga of the spotted lanternfly’s conquest of New York and beyond continues. They had what the New York Post called a “sex-crazed” summer in 2024, and indeed, experts now report a significant increase in egg counts compared to last year. As we speak, they’re hatching and spreading fast, ready to feast on our lush Upper West Side parks and reproduce like nobody’s business — all while we’re out there dutifully squashing them.

Hot Fly Summer is just around the corner.

At the same time, conservationists are kindly asking us to help bring back a species that desperately needs our care to return to the city. Once one of the most abundant trees in our region, the American chestnut was devastated by a fungal disease in the early 20th century. It’s not extinct — it’s worse: The chestnut is stuck in an endless cycle of death and rebirth. Its root system remains intact, but any new shoots that emerge are quickly killed by the blight. The tree is alive, but it cannot live.

The New York Restoration Project — the organization Bette Midler founded in 1995 by simply picking up trash in a park — is now giving away germinated seedlings of American chestnut trees, hybridized with the blight-resistant Chinese chestnut. If you have access to a backyard, a community garden, or any other suitable green space, you can apply for a sapling and do your 100-foot-tall part in bringing a piece of New York history back to the Upper West Side.

The lanternfly is like a summer fling: coming in hot, fast, and hungry — here to burn bright, take what it wants, give nothing, and vanish. The chestnut, in contrast, is asking for our care and devotion in a long-term commitment, without promising any quick pleasure. We won’t enjoy its shade for many years — maybe never, since not all of the baby chestnuts awaiting homes will be able to withstand the blight. What we’re asked to do is find satisfaction in nurturing beauty and hope for the future. We’re called to love without expectations, for love’s sake alone.

Not to say that people are like flies, but New York has its fair share of affairs with the kind who come in wanting  — the money, the rush, the brunches, the TikTok backdrops — and leave for somewhere more comfortable as soon as they’re no longer thirsty. Now, I’ll admit this is nothing but a feeling, but the Upper West Side seems to have resisted that kind of fast love as best she could. Instead, she seems to have attracted the kind of New Yorker who’s in for the long haul, looking to plant themselves. This neighborhood has commitment written all over it: iconic businesses that still give you a glimpse of Upper West Side life a few decades ago, blocks so pretty you know someone cares about them, an ensemble of familiar faces — people you know nothing about but see every day, and quietly rely on for comfort.

The Upper West Side doesn’t give fast, wild crush. She offers a more grounded love that grows over time, shaped by people who choose to nurture, invest, and care. You know … chestnut love.

It’s that kind of unrushed, natural connection I stumbled upon a few weeks ago. I spotted a man — looking like a very, very young LL Cool J — sitting on a bench near the 67th Street entrance to Central Park. He held a sign that said, “Free dating advice.” No camera, no social media setup, no performance. Just him offering wisdom, asking nothing in return. Another young man sat down beside him, and they started talking with earnest faces. Intrigued, I moved closer.

My dog, ever the trusty conspirator, agreed to find something worthwhile to sniff so I could sneak in a little eavesdropping. The advice-seeker was going on and on about how Tri Dim Shanghai on Columbus Avenue is the most authentic Chinese restaurant he’s found in New York. Huh. Didn’t expect that. There was some back-and-forth about dumplings — the ones at Red Farm, The Tang, Vanessa’s Dumpling House. Eventually, the advice-giver brought up his grandpa … who also loves dumplings.

I had to leave before I found out where they were going with all this, dating-wise. But wherever the dumplings eventually led, these two were having a moment. They slowed down, offered a little of themselves, shared and listened, and became part of each other’s day. That’s how you root. Probably not the worst dating advice, either.

Upper West Siders know how to chestnut love. We stick around, we’re loyal, we know how to make it last. I mean, we still won’t stop whining about the loss of a bagel shop we know had an absolute rat problem. But once we love, we love. Whaddya gonna do?

So yes, we’re the perfect match for those chestnut saplings. We’ll fuss over them, call them iconic, and definitely post passive-aggressive signs to keep the dogs away. And we’ll come for every single lanternfly that dares to munch on one of our own — like a neighbor who’s convinced that bike lanes are a portal to hell and is yelling about it on Nextdoor in all caps.

Oh well. We’re committed, is what I mean.

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Yvonne Vávra is a magazine writer and author of the German book 111 Gründe New York zu lieben (111 Reasons to Love New York). Born a Berliner but an aspiring Upper West Sider since the 1990s (thanks, Nora Ephron), she came to New York in 2010 and seven years later made her Upper West Side dreams come true. She’s been obsessively walking the neighborhood ever since.

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