Community garden



A half block from where I live is a vacant lot, prime real estate, now the home of a community garden.  It is totally unfenced, open to anyone who might want to wander in and look around.  There are about a dozen plots, each one cared for by someone who paid about $15 for the use of the land.  Right now, in the height of summer, all plots are full of growth, lush and plentiful with harvest.  Some people have gone the traditional route:  tomatoes, basil, zucchini, green beans.  One is nothing but herbs and edible flowers.  Beautiful orange pumpkins are surprising, as are 12 foot tall sunflowers and teepees of vining beans.  It is obvious that some people have a knack for growing things, or have at least prepared the soil and come by to water on a regular basis. Other plots are a bit more haphazard, well- intentioned in the beginning but now looking a little forgotten and disheveled. But it is a delight to walk past every day and watch the progress of the plants.  Tomatoes are turning red now, beans and snap peas are plentiful as are many varieties of summer squash. Of course, there are some neglected zucchini that are the size of a cat and some swiss chard on the verge of bolting, lots of lettuce leaves already going to seed. 

 

As I was walking by yesterday, early in the morning, a woman was bending over, watering one plot that I have admired, a great stand of basil, beautiful kale and chard, dark green parsley.  We exchanged "good mornings" and I said something nice about her plot and she stood up straight and said "Thanks, and please, help yourself to anything here. There is just too much for me at this point."  I responded with surprise and gratitude and she assured me that, yes, it would be fine to take a lot of basil, or some beans, or cut some chard.  What kindness! What sharing!  Made me smile all morning.  I will go back later today and get a few fresh herbs and maybe some chard. 

 

In the middle of the field is a small, rickety table and the gardeners leave things on the table that they obviously don't want:  a small misshaped eggplant, one of those cat-size zucchini, herbs, greens.  I snatched up the eggplant; its odd shape certainly didn't affect its taste.  I hope the person who ate the can of corn for dinner last week comes by and maybe gets some cherry tomatoes or a handful of green beans, which are delicious raw.  I don't think anyone would mind.

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

 



 

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