Sometimes I get the sense from an offhand comment that gardens are considered escapist entertainment. My experience has been the opposite, and maybe this is what comes with small gardens in crowded neighborhoods. Because I’m constantly outside, I know to the minute when a neighbor on the west lights off the burn pile he keeps in the far corner of his lot, where the noxious smoke wafts over us, not him. A neighbor on the east yells “Shut up!!” at Billie in a tone so shudderingly ugly it must have taken a lifetime to perfect. (Admittedly, Billie has never heard a neighborhood dog chorus she didn’t want to embellish with her unique contribution, and we’re constantly admonishing her about this.) When conversations floating over the fence become loud and intense, I focus to discern whether it’s anger or raucous, back-slapping humor. When I step into the garden, front or back, it’s not an escape but an immersion in every aspect of local life.
As far as I can see, ours is the only house that uses a screen door in summer. I’ve never seen anyone sit on their front porch as we do daily in summer, sometimes when it’s still dark outside with the first coffee. But then front gardens are not part of the neighborhood culture here. From what I’ve seen, gardens foster engagement with the neighborhood, not retreat. Sitting on the porch in the early morning is where I met the daily walker Jerry and discovered he is the one who keeps the homing pigeons that occasionally wheel over the garden, such a gorgeous sight. (I learned a couple days ago that hawks got two of his pigeons, a rare but unfortunate occurrence Jerry feels is part of the deal and doesn’t begrudge the predators.) From the porch is where I became familiar with the small woman whose young grandchildren are nearly as tall is she is. They always hold hands and chatter away as they walk. The small woman walks home enormous loads from the grocery store in a backpack that bends her spine.
Standing in the garden to gauge the changing light, humidity, wind, to observe where water pools or cold air settles, to use my limited senses to give plants the best chance at life in a garden, it strikes me we act as proxies and surrogates for the plants, putting ourselves in plants’ shoes, so to speak. And that practice will always mean spending loads of time outdoors acting as a human gauge to measure the basics, air, soil, water, temperature, invertebrate life or lack of it. It means complete engagement with the essentials of life. I don’t know why I’m sensitive on this issue! But it does piss me off when it’s implied that making gardens is a a trivial, escapist hobby.
In the garden random thoughts wheel in and out like homing pigeons. Politics, family, the tyranny of one-party rule, the tithonia I want to remember to grow next summer. And where is my bulb order anyway?
This might be the last weekend I can score rabbit poop from the boy who brings buckets of it to the local farmers’ market, which only runs through September. Amazing stuff. Never burns like other manures.
Take care, AGO
Your observations of your neighbors are as interesting as your plants! Do the neighbors ever poke their heads over the fence and comment on your abundant garden? I imagine you’ve got the most exciting back garden in town. It’s too bad there’s not more interaction or discussions over front gardens.
I would like to think that gardens are not considered frivolous due to the many functions they perform for people, wildlife, climate and the environment. With the ever increasing number of people in urban centers eeking out a small space of your own is essential in my mind. And as you mentioned it’s a way to meet others within your community. It’s all good!
Oh how I wish I could write a post about my neighborhood interactions and observations. I’ve considered creating a second blog where I could be anonymous and get away with such things, since fortunately/unfortunately danger garden has become such a known that it’s no longer pseudonym but my middle name. As for “escapist entertainment” it hurts my brain there are so many people so cut off from the natural world.
I can only think of Gladys Kravitz from Bewitched as the awful neighbor who yells at Billie. That voice! I’d make it part of my routine to see what was happening in your garden -if I lived anywhere nearby. We had a cigarette smoker living behind us for a year, filling my garden with second hand smoke. I am SO thankful they don’t live there anymore. Your first photo I’ve had to go back and look at several times, the colors are exquisite. *I’ve also marched inside to look up the status of bulb orders.
@Kris, there is a very overgrown mature front garden planted with peonies, oriental poppies etc that’s been retaken by bindweed and other pernicious stuff. One theory is that lawns are preferred because they are easy to control in such a fecund environment which promotes rampant growth!
@Elaine, very eloquently preaching to the choir!
@Loree, it always cracks me up when you’re addressed as Danger Garden!
@Tracy, you are too young to have a Bewitched reference! Yeah, my bulb order supposedly shipped but who knows where it is.
I believe our better natures are nurtured in the garden. Seems many of us could learn a lesson or two there. Slow down. See. Experience life. It would probably tamp down some of the tempers if more people did it. And put us more in touch with what truly matters – our connection to nature and our community.