My boyfriend was on his way to the C station recently and as he headed up Franklin Ave. he saw something puzzling and, as he put it, “so f—ing cute,” near the intersection of Monroe and Franklin. Remember that old house that was profiled in the City Section of The Times a few months ago? It was the cover story, and was written by the woman who lived in the house? She found century-old objects in a tunnel underneath it? Well, now she and whoever else lives there are gardening and harvesting and selling to the neighborhood…using the honor system.

When I went to check it out, there was no one around, just an adorable farm-stand set up, some basil and sage in water, a big bushel of light purple kale, a very large fennel stalk with a small bulb and a huge bushel of lemongrass. (It said “figs” on the sign, but I didn’t see any.) I waited around to see if a person would appear, but they didn’t. So I put a dollar in the mailbox, chose the fennel after many (what felt like minutes) of uncertainty, and hopped down the street.

I hope the experiment in community friendliness works. I watched from afar for a few minutes and I didn’t see any funny business. I didn’t see anyone buy anything either.

But I’ve got a beautiful fennel stalk with soft leaves! What will I do with it??

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