The early weeks spent in my community garden spot were pure toil: digging, seeding, watering, weeding. And waiting.
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Every now and then weeding can be gratifying, like cleaning out a closet or clearing a desktop, akin to finding order amid chaos. I suspected that my first dive back into my new garden plot might be like that; after all, I’d have to transform what had become a jungle-in-the-making into framed rows of clean dirt. I needed a bold game plan.
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I had all things Floret Farm on my mind when I set out to find the landing for my gardening comeback. I started thinking about joining a community garden – a commitment that would test my professed love of planting and sowing beyond the footprint of my own living space. I explored neighborhoods and asked questions and learned, above all, that there was a shortage of available space but no lack of gardeners-in-waiting. I missed out on openings that first growing season and started to suspect the same result this year. Then I got the call.
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I kept up a garden of some sort at each of our several houses while the kids were still around. More than fifteen seasons of abundance. Over time though I grew weary of the constant weeding and the passing off of bountiful harvests of zucchinis, tomatoes and the like to friends, neighbors and colleagues, to the point when gardening became a chore. It was time for the white flag.
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