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We moved into this neighborhood for the affordability, the working class feel, trees that were already halfway grown and a good number of children playing in the street.
This was last century, in '86, a time when nobody remembered Liberty Gardens and the notion of "Urban Gardening" had not appeared on the fashion page yet. So when I tore up part of my front lawn, built four 4"X8" beds and filled them with my best resource, a pickup truck load of perfectly aged compost, some looks turned ugly in the hood, offended by that assault on the green goddess of suburbia.
It took a while and some shared tomatoes to gain over my most fervent opponents.
By now, my half wild, jungly looking garden is not just integrated in our community, but a point of discovery for new couples jogging their baby carriage around the hood.
Through diverse plantings, not only do I have enough produce for us and others; it is not fenced in and open to "tasters" and eaters alike but it has become a shelter for biodiversity from zillions of insects (Although I could do w/o the skeeters!) to birds of all sorts. And all of them know and abide by the holy rule: wildlife is not allowed more than 10/20% of the crop. They all get it and respect it! No need for armored vehicles here; everyone gets it and respects it. That allows me to keep our veggies purely bio, w/o a need for chemical killers.
And, yes, it means the local fox shares into my corn and some unknown creature has topped my snap beans at a young age but, all in all, things work out and there always is something to be in awe of, like butterflies, bees, hummingbirds, goldfinches, frogs, damselflies, new buds, something to taste, something to enjoy with the eyes or pop into the mouth. (Try those Cherry Roma tomatoes! or raspberries!)
It's not just a good place for honey bees, when they were younger, many a child in this neighborhood has spent hours, upon hours playing hide and seek in the exotic bamboo and the giant banana "jungles" as they nicknamed them or jumping into piles of leaves from the chestnut tree that graced the corner before falling victim to the European Chestnut disease.
Then one day, many years later, one of those now grown kids contacts you to thank you or to come and check the place:
"When I talk to friends about my childhood, your garden is a topic that always gets brought up. It is a great place to have grown up near and to have experienced. I know I am not the only one who got enjoyment out of your lovely garden, which I continue to enjoy to this day. I am heading back to school in January but I will make a point to visit over summer to see you and the banana trees in their full glory."
Or the
garden inspires artists like Anne who can put on canvas what I put in dirt and
feel the same communion with the natural beauty surrounding us.
Sometimes, the surprise works the other way,
like when you come home to a home-baked bread with a thank you note:
I guess I
can now say that after all those years; this little garden has earned its spot
in the heart of our community.
