Early Days at the Community Garden Plot

Photo by Gayla Trail  All Rights Reserved

Last fall I decided to participate in a national growing experiment called, The Great Canadian Garlic Collection, wherein hundreds, possibly thousands of gardening nerds are growing garlic, recording their results, and then pooling the data so we can all find out which varieties grow best under varying conditions. Believe me when I say that it is all VERY important work and I have taken my role as a participant very seriously. In fact I am taking it all so seriously that it has forced me to change my evil, too-open-to-suggestion-and-last-minute-changes ways by making a garden plan.

Last fall, when the garlic arrived in the mail, I knew I would not be able to do what I usually do which is just stick it wherever it will grow and forget about it until spring. I had to keep track of the garlic, the varieties I am growing, and then record my observations over the span of two years. For the first time ever I needed a serious plan. A plan that can’t be changed on a whim. A plan committed to paper.

And so I decided to make an experiment out of this experiment. I decided to try growing a slightly more formal garden at my community plot than is my way. My way is generally one based on informal companion planting. I grow plants in groupings that work, share, look gorgeous, and love together but I don’t get hung up on formally arranging things. I enjoy a bit of organization and try to keep chaos at bay in other areas of my life, but since the gardens aren’t so much my spaces anymore as they are work spaces, I try to leave a little space for serendipity to take hold. I do not use rulers or string. I do not mark space. I do not make a design on paper that can then be implemented in the earth.

But like I said all of that had to change with the introduction of the very important garlic. And so I set about making a plan last fall. I came up with a design and I set to blocking off the garden using sticks and string as markers. I planted the garlic, recorded its locations, drew in the herbs and perennials, finishing off with carefully marked blobs for spring plantings.

Photo by Gayla Trail  All Rights Reserved

And then in a telling Freudian slip, at the very moment I needed to place my early spring seed orders, I lost the plan. My subconscious did not want to be told it can only grow 4 tomato varieties. My subconscious was gonna grow those ‘Chocolate Cherry’ sunflowers formal plan be damned! I searched high and low but it was gone for good. I went ahead and ordered the seeds without the plan.

In the end it wasn’t a big deal, although as always I have far more seeds than I can grow. The overall layout was still marked off with string at the garden. Garlic sprouts have emerged from the soil with accompanying tags indicating the varieties. The perennials are marking their space, leaving me with empty pockets to fill with the seedlings I started under lights a month or so ago.

Photo by Gayla Trail  All Rights Reserved

And despite the formality there is still plenty of space for serendipity and last minute inspiration. When I went to do clean up on the garden last week I had the impulse to build a sculptural trellis to grow peas and beans on. I am overstocked on attractive pea varieties and thought it would be nice to grow them in the community plot this year. The community garden is surrounded by weed trees that require aggressive pruning every year less we lose sunlight to the garden entirely. I used some of those prunings to build a gnarly tripod trellis, reinforcing it with woven branches at the base. I’m rather fond of it. It is going to look gorgeous covered in peas, if the groundhog doesn’t get to them first!

Photo by Gayla Trail  All Rights Reserved

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The Earth-Loving, Tree-Hugging Hippies Inside Us

This whole Earth Day thing has me a bit puzzled. Come to think of it most [Insert Cause Here] Days are oddly perplexing. Maybe it’s just human nature to take things for granted, but I’ve never been able to wrap my head around the fact that we have to set aside a special day once a year to recognize the critical importance of the very thing that sustains our lives. I’m still waiting for that wheel-shaped space station they promised us by the year 2000. Until then we’re kind of stuck here.

Pausing to reflect upon and evaluate the importance of the Earth in our lives seems a little bit ludicrous, about as crazy as believing that climate change is a hoax made up by the Left. Given that a certain percentage of people really believe that, I suppose I’ve already answered my own question as to why we need to have days like this. A certain percentage of us just don’t get it, and maybe the rest of us need to be reminded now and again amidst the too-little-too-late mantras of why we need to keep trying.

I’ve always been a bit of a cynical optimist. But as I get older I have begun to drop some of the cynicism moving closer to a hopeful optimism — the sarcasm however is still firmly embedded. While I am one of those, “Everyday SHOULD be Earth Day” people I don’t want to cynically spit on the opportunity to make even small differences when the possibility to make them exists. For the most part I do think we are done for but I also don’t think we should just roll over and give up, making as many selfish choices as we can before the apocalypse comes. Today, the Earth! Tomorrow, awesome shoes!

So this year I decided that I would publicly recognize Earth Day and talk about the positive impact I think gardening as an activity can have on us and the environment. It’s a tricky topic to address because gardening has a very strong potential to go either way. Gardening can and has been bad for the environment. It would be naive to ignore that fact. When I think of the horrible acts committed in gardens over the years… it’s a little bit scary. And I’m not just talking about the big hats.

But on the other hand gardening doesn’t have to be an environmentally dangerous act. The act of growing plants holds within it the potential to be a powerfully positive, active pursuit that can make a difference in you even if it doesn’t make a difference to the environment. Gardening, especially growing food, transforms us into producers — something we desperately need in our passive consumer culture where we have become an audience watching life rather than producers making life. Producing inevitably leads us to learn new things and make connections. Growing food provides a connection to and an understanding of where our food comes from. Firsthand experience with what food looks like when it comes out of the ground, with all of it’s shapes, flaws, beauty, and flavor, transforms our expectations. It turns us into educated, active consumers despite ourselves.

Like many beginners, when the gardening bug hit I did not begin with the intention of growing organically. Most of the positive choices I made, whether to avoid using pesticides or plant a native plant were made passively — I didn’t want to touch the chemical and I thought the flowers were pretty. How I made my choices as a gardener were a reflection of the passive choices I made in other areas of my life; using Mr. Clean to wash the floor because everybody else did, and eating unhealthy foods because that’s just how I was raised.

One of the amazing things about the act of gardening is that it inspires a sense of wonder and reconnects our brains to the small discoveries that brought so much joy in childhood. All of those tiny yet wonderful things we adults are too sophisticated or mature to acknowledge are rediscovered in a pot of basil. Gardening reconnected me to the pleasure in getting my hands dirty; brought up the childhood surprise in finding a worm poking its head up through the soil; rekindled the magic in putting a seed in a cup and watching it sprout and the pride in knowing I was a part of making that happen. And then over time I noticed other things too. I noticed how the weather changes from year to year. I saw insects and other living things I hadn’t noticed in years, if not for the very first time. And in seeing I began to realize how important those living things are. I started to see them as a necessity instead of a nuisance. I started to see that all of this would still be here even when I wasn’t. And that realization developed into a sense of responsibility for and to it. Gardening draws us closer to recognizing that we have a shared, collective stewardship to our surroundings that reaches beyond the here and now.

Gardening forced me to pay attention. Gardening brought the earth-loving, tree-hugging hippie that was shut inside me, out. Gardening created connections that I couldn’t ignore, inspiring me to make active choices rather that passive ones.

And so I figure, if gardening could do all that for me, then surely it has the potential to do that for other people too. One small act that creates a domino effect that brings out the earth-loving, tree-hugging hippies inside all of us.

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Possible Porn Star Names

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And one most excellent misspelling.

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Monster Impatiens: Leading the War Against Humanity

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FYI: This is what passes for an impatiens in San Francisco. If you live in a warmer climate you will be unimpressed by my discovery. If you are from my neck of the woods your mind will have been blown wide open! In case you didn’t get the memo, San Francisco is a Utopian paradise where plants grow larger than life. Everything is bigger and better there, and I’m not just talking about the marijuana cigarettes. Our Northern version of an impatiens is a dull flowering annual commonly tossed into a monochromatic ring underneath small trees and accompanied by a border of decorative plastic edging. They rarely grow taller than 10 inches before they are dug up and tossed out at the end of the growing season.

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It reaches as high as the bottle brush!

As you can guess from my unflattering description, I’ve never been a fan of these lackluster flowers. Really the only thing that makes them even marginally interesting is the fact that they are edible, and even that is nothing to write home about. But I think I can respect the impatiens I saw in San Francisco even if that respect is born out of the fear that a plant that can grow with that kind of vigor from out of a sidewalk crack could probably eat me for breakfast.

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Containers (Orange Wall)

Photo by Gayla Trail  All Rights Reserved

While walking in San Francisco. The blue flower is Lobelia.

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