My Favorite Corner of SF
This article is part of My Favorite Corner of SF, a feature series that pays homage to a special place in the city.
My neighborhood is home to what may very well be the tallest cactus in San Francisco. I have no data to back that up, but I’m pretty confident about it. Towering more than 12 feet, the green goddess grows out of a small box next to the arched entrance of a beautiful old apartment building on the corner of Anza Street and Fourth Avenue. Someone is clearly looking after it because they’ve fastened wooden rings in the wall to keep it aligned and growing skyward.
I’ve always admired this resilient succulent. “How old are you?” I often ask, noting its size. “Where are you from?” I know nothing about this cactus, but I smile every time I see it oh-so-out-of-place in the Inner Richmond.
Every year, I try to create a watercolor postcard to send out to friends and family to brighten their day. As we all know, 2020 has been particularly tough on everyone. While brainstorming this year’s subject, I thought back to the cactus on the corner. It’s surviving and thriving — and that’s exactly what we need right now. That night, I took to my living-room-turned-studio and got painting.
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A few weeks later, I noticed the garage door next to the cactus was open. Inside, I saw what looked like some sort of woodshop with overflowing racks of lumber, a drill press, and tools hanging on yellow pegboards. In the back stood a bearded man in a vest, tan pants, and a gray knit cap.
I paused, collected my thoughts, and called the most creative greeting I could muster into the garage: “Hello!” As I did this, I realized how strange I must look standing there on the sidewalk with a bandanna covering most of my face. Nonetheless, he replied with an enthusiastic “Hello!”
It was there that, from six feet away, I met Yvan. “Like Ivan with a ‘Y,’” he said. Yvan told me that he’s been working out of this space for nearly 30 years, and he planted the cactus two decades ago. He built the wooden box that it grows out of as well as the rings that keep it in place. During our conversation, he pointed out that even though the cactus is tall, it has its shallow but dense root system to thank.
I told Yvan how much I admire the effort he put in, but he shrugged it off. “You should see it in August,” he said with a smile. “Every August it flowers — no matter what.”
I’ve spent the past month thinking about Yvan and the cactus, which I now know is a Lemaireocereus thurberi or organ pipe cactus. According to my sunbaked copy of Colorful Cacti of the American Deserts that I got at an East Bay estate sale years ago, these giants are native to Arizona, Baja California, and western Mexico. They thrive in rocky environments at elevations less than 3,000 feet. Bay Area sidewalks were not mentioned in the book, but by the look of things, I’d say that they’ll work just fine.
Maybe there’s something to be learned from this cactus and the carpenter who planted it. During these strange times, our tight-knit roots will help us stand strong and, with any luck, grow. When we see all this through, the world will be a sight to behold — just like that unforgettable cactus sprouting up near my favorite street corner in San Francisco.
To watch this cactus grow through the years on Google Street View, click here.
