'Kind of fed up': A San Francisco woman with a shovel is solving a neighborhood problem

It's easy to spot Mary Hickey from afar. She's the only person carrying a shovel on Van Ness Avenue. She plods along the avenue's wide sidewalk in her red rubber boots, scanning the long row of metal planters bordering Fort Mason Park. Peering over one planter, she pulls out a Corona bottle wedged under the leaves of an agave plant.

Although her gloves, shears and rubber boots might suggest otherwise, Hickey isn't a longtime gardener. She became one earlier this month, she says, after becoming "kind of fed up" with the appearance of the planters in her neighborhood.

"I started noticing in the whole city the condition of these planters," Hickey says. "That they aren't being maintained. There's weeds and garbage and graffiti and everything else."

A few years ago, rows of planters just like these - long, metal and oval-shaped - popped up on sidewalks around San Francisco. Although the plants served to beautify some neighborhoods, most locals seemed to agree on their tacit purpose: to prevent unhoused people from camping in front of homes and businesses. Planters often appeared on the former sites of tents or encampments. When filled with soil, the large metal planters weigh over 2,000 pounds.

Some of these planters were installed by homeowners and others by business owners. Critics pointed to the planters as a prime example of hostile architecture.

Dianne Eyer, a neighbor of Hickey's, says she was part of a group of neighbors involved in the push to install the Van Ness planters along the sidewalk in the first place. Tents had popped up along the wall, she says. At night, people were reselling bicycle parts.

"I know some people that resent these because they said, 'Well, you know, they're really to get free from the homeless,' but we have services for the homeless," Eyer says.

Although nominally installed for beautification purposes, some of the planters have become blights of their own. Some were used by passersby as trash cans; others hosted dead plants or no plants at all. The website for SF Planters, a contractor that installed many of the planters in 2023, no longer works. (SFGATE reached out to SF Planters for this article but did not receive a response.)

Until recently, the metal tubs bordering Fort Mason Park were abandoned.

"We had a watering person all lined up and a small stipend to take care of it, and he disappeared with the stipend," Eyer says.

Hickey, 63, is taking matters into her own hands. After a shoulder injury forced her to take a break from playing pickleball, she began tending to the planters in her neighborhood. On a typical day, she spends 90 minutes pulling out weeds, picking out trash and planting new succulent cuttings, which she purchased from a homeowner on Facebook Marketplace.

Now, Eyer has become one of Hickey's helpers. She spotted Hickey early on and joined her in weeding the overgrown planters. Eyer has, in Hickey's words, "rallied the troops," enlisting the help of seven other neighbors to join in on the gardening.

"I just couldn't leave her alone," Eyer recalls thinking.

Hickey has lived in the neighborhood, a few blocks away from these planters, since 1989. She moved to San Francisco after the 1989 earthquake and once did public relations for the Blue Angels. These days, she teaches pickleball at Stanford University and around the city; a few years back, she was one of the most vocal opponents of the city's decision to close several pickleball courts at the Presidio Wall.

She's given up counting how many beer bottles and weeds she's pulled out of the planters. She points out a succulent that's been flattened. It's a sign that a high schooler sat down on the planter, she says: "They sit here with backpacks 'cause they're kids, they're tired."

If there were benches along the sidewalk, her newly planted succulents wouldn't get squashed. Still, it's no trouble. She reaches into her basket, pulls out a fresh succulent and plants it in the old one's place.

Hickey's hope is that others will follow her example. There's an eight year waitlist for the Fort Mason Community Garden. What if instead of waiting for a plot, locals used these derelict planters? She throws around the idea of an adopt-a-planter program or a citywide contest where pedestrians can use QR codes to vote on their favorite planters.

"I hope that everybody sees how beautiful they are and wants to help take them on," she says. "It's my hope."

On this recent Tuesday, Hickey's helpers are at home. Working alone, it takes her 10 minutes to tidy up a single planter. It's so crowded with tall weeds that the original plants are invisible. She uproots them, one by one, and plucks out a beer bottle hidden among the detritus. When she's done, there are just three plants in the soil, spaced evenly. The effect is similar to shearing a Chia Pet - and just as satisfying to watch.

"When you enjoy something, it doesn't feel like work," she says, moving from one planter to the next. "It doesn't feel like a chore."

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This story was originally published April 29, 2026 at 7:21 PM.