Green spaces build communities
Natasha Waxman of Waterloo, Ontario plants some fun and goodwill in her neighbourhood:
The first intimation I had that I was onto something was when I started digging up my small, struggling front lawn, and my neighbour Marie wandered over from across the street with a shovel. It looked like fun, she said. Others joined in throughout the day, and by afternoon we had scraped it bald. I dumped a few meters of good composted earth onto the patch; my neighbour Carolyn jostled her one year-old twins in her arms while she advised me on where to put the tomato stakes and the basil and the chard to make the most of the small space. I got quite a few puzzled looks as people walked by, especially at the big twisty tomato stakes.
Within eight weeks, it was as though somebody had pointed a wand at that sad little patch–and said, GROW! People would wander by and and marvel at the changes from week to week, at the sheer crazy bounty of it. The tomato plants grew as tall as me. Kids would hop from stone to stone on the little paths I’d made through the plants. People would often ask shyly if was I worried that people would steal the tomatoes and I’d say "No! That’s what they’re there for!" and I’d huck them until they started picking. It’s funny how enjoyable picking is– elderly ladies seem to like it as much as the toddlers. Sometimes people would eat them warm and sweet from the vine, which was incredibly gratifying, and sometimes I had to break up cherry tomato throwing matches. The squirrels ate ALL the pumpkins in one day, "like they were filet mingon," as my neighbour Mary said. People stopped by with advice, or to tell me about the gardens or farms they’d grown up with. I continually tried to get people to take home some chard (does anyone really love chard?). Nine-year-old Linnea would bring her friends by to delicately pick the tiny wild strawberries (which incidentally are becoming something of an invasive menace, but I digress), like little girls in a story.
We’ve just finished eating the tomato sauce I canned last year, and there’s still some pesto. This year’s tomatoes have been in for several weeks now, stretching their roots. I’ve struck out into eggplants, broccoli and spinach, and nixed the chard (though it was so prolific!…). People have been coming by as I work to ask how things are going, reminisce about last year’s garden, and wonder if this year can possibly be as good.
My feeling? It already is.
Thanks, Natasha. It sounds wonderful. And I love chard! /Gail
June 20th, 2008 at 6:39 am
Natasha: About 10 years ago we dug up our front yard in northern Ontario and planted it with perennials, some of which were given to us by people in nearby apartments who had been given potted plants they could no longer care for. We created a community garden using some copper plant markers dedicating the plant to the donor. It was very well received. It even turned into somewhat of a memorial garden.
We now live in Kincardine with a much larger front yard (small yards are such a treat!) but have decided to remove all the grass once again. We reused a tree which had been removed from a neighbours yard and had been chipped into a mulch as pathways and have incorporated a kitchen garden of companion planted herbs and vegetables around a more formal perennial garden.
I think the neighbours thought us nuts at first but when they could realize that the veggies and herbs were planted to be shared, they were soon enveloped into the concept! Our weather has caused us to plant a little later than normal (too wet) and so we’re still waiting for the trailing vines of cucumbers and squash to overtake the large empty spots and sometimes I feel like ‘a watched pot never boils!’ but it’s been incredibly fun and entertaining…a wonderful way to meet and grow relationships alongside the lettuce!
So glad to hear your story…I can’t wait to see vegetable gardens in every front yard!
Lynne Taylor, Kincardine, Ontario