Gardening

Gardening—Community Style

Joan Crosby

Normally, radishes aren't a big deal in my life, but this year I am thrilled by the little red vegetables. Theyare growing in my garden and I credit their success to community gardening efforts.

It was a different story in the early spring planting months; I feared that my garden project would never succeed.

First was the money problem. In these economic times, cash is difficultto come by.

I tried getting help with funding but all my grant requests were turned down. Finally, one day while cleaning the hall closet, I unearthed a forgotten loose-change coffee can and (whoopee do) found enough quarters to buy radish and lettuce seeds.

The next problem was tilling the soil. I couldn't very well call my farm cousin in South Dakota and ask him to bring his Allis Chalmers for a good plowing session, and it didn't seem like good manners to ask strangers for non-emergency help, so I got out my old-fashioned hoe and cultivated the soil in myself.

Thedirt was nice and friable (due to the half-composted stuff I'm always burying there) so planting was no problem. I even enjoyed the company of a toad who took up residence beneath a nearby rhubarb plant. Mr. Toad did not appreciate my efforts and dug a small hole into which he disappeared, except for an occasional glimpse of his eyes.

During the next few weeks, while weeding or talking to my radish and lettuce seedlings (did I mention I planted lettuce too?), the toad glared balefully at me from his underground bunker. I don't think he was much into this "community" thing.

Another obstacle to overcome was the encroachment issue. A large rabbit was seen skulking in the neighborhood. Deer pranced wantonly on the South Shore Drive. Chipmunks frolicked in the garden wall drainpipe. I felt totally inadequate. How could I protect my garden? Patrol my radishes and lettuce 24/7?

A high strong fence would do the job, but the money problem once again reared its ugly head. I couldn't afford to buy the materials, much less pay installation fees. Luckily community efforts bailed me out again.

Goldie, the Labrador retriever, and Mr. Magoo, the pug, volunteered to guard the radish and lettuce perimeters, and although I occasionally glimpsed a paw print on the top of a flattened seedling, they did a good job with deer and rabbits. Not one has been sighted since they began their tour of duty.

Unfortunately, the dogs are trained not to chase chipmunks (they are our friends) so when something ate most of the young lettuce leaves, I suspected those "somethings" were striped, tiny and cute—the community chipmunks.

I should have followed the examples of the old-timers on the Gunflint who, many years ago, told me they planted their gardens with extras for the "critters," and everyone had enough. After all, life isn't all about meme me. I paid for my selfishness by losing all the lettuce but a leaf or two for garnish when I wasn't willing to share with my chipmunk neighbors.

The real community gardener in this story is my neighbor. Throughout the summer, he periodically knocks at his neighbor's doors and without folderol or fanfare, asks if we could use some lettuce or pea pods or any number of ripe fresh fruits or vegetables from his bountiful garden.

Thanks to his generosity, I now have lettuce upon which to place my radishes.