ON THE ROOF OF WATSON
SALOVEY’S GARDEN
This weekend, I found myself at a party with twenty strangers on the roof of the Watson Center. It felt unlikely and illegal, and thus important and correct— probably the sentiments of every person who’s ever hung out on a roof of an institutional building. There was cheap, sweet rosé. There was talk of holy shit I’m so glad we aren’t first years anymore and are you kidding at least we aren’t in high school anymore. Every minute or two, a motion-sensitive floodlight blinked on, at which point whatever conversation I was jiving with was met with a horrible overhead brightness, pointing out flaws in faces you would normally choose to ignore in the gush of meeting someone new and interesting. It was as if a helicopter were hovering above, blaring its spotlight and shouting STOP You Have Been Caught In the Act of Trying to Be NICE and Make FRIENDS, and then turning off to signal never mind and that actually you may carry on. After a year and a half of constantly halted socialization, it’s nice to carry on. Even if it’s stop and go.
Last year, as “let’s grab a meal” gave way to “let’s go for a walk,” Yale students stumbled upon 43 Hillhouse, a quasi-public garden of rolling lawns and sprawling oaks that makes up the backyard of President Salovey and Marta Moret, design courtesy of Master Gardener Moret. “It feels like we shouldn’t be allowed to be there,” said one undergraduate student. But the pandemic transformed the once-exclusive space into a more inviting one, as the community began to use the yard for walks, picnics, and reflection. I celebrated my 21st birthday there, laying my blanket under the shade of a gracious oak, enjoying the balmy breeze with friends as we munched on grapes and cheese. It seems the space is here to stay this fall; Salovey told me via email that he’s “delighted to share this beautiful open space with the community.”
BY NICOLE DIRKS
BY NANKI CHUGH
