Takes a village

Initially, I hadn't planned to start a garden; it started with just three small rose bushes purchased by Forrest's mom on a visit here in 2000.

The idea expanded; we decided we wanted to rid ourselves of grass and all the work involved to maintain it, as well as do the right thing in terms of our shared commitment to the environment... We started planting some drought-tolerant natives, along with a few things we liked (like the mimosa and some lillies).

Certainly, there was no intention to start a community garden.

From early on, I didn't want to expend much energy on the side lot north of the house - it's precarious, because I'm only a 50% owner. One of several options I've considered, should my uncle decide to sell before I was ready to leave the house (and buying him out on the whole property was quite likely not an option), was to sell the lot and purchase his piece of the house, something Forrest and I talked about on many occasions. We would hopefully even leverage our future travel plans if we did it right.

But then Forrest created this amazing grape arbor just off the driveway near the sidewalk. It's gorgeous, creative and absolutely delightul; the grapes are now just starting to ripen again (I'll get a picture soon). Strawberries served as ground cover and lavender attracted more bees; little by little we added wild flowers, herbs, shrubs and trees. Then came last winter - harsh and unpleasant both in terms of weather and economics, and we decided to grow food. So Forrest built the raised beds.

Soon we had a community garden, without really planning or expecting it. Ideas flew about how best to make it work, we met awesome people, and the garden made it into the first Sustainable Ballard Edible Garden Tour and into Pacific Magazine about sustainable communities. Who would'a thought?

And now, very suddenly, my life and my future have changed dramatically without my voice being included in the decision making. Now, it's just me.

Forrest says he may want to grow some greens in one of the raised beds, but he hasn't fully committed and I'm not sure when he'll have time. And because he doesn't plan to be here, there's much that he took care of that I either don't have time for or don't, at least right now, have the energy for. Nor really, the inclination. I liked gardening when it was a shared experience. So if it's going to be maintained, I'm going to need help.

What I hope for is that this little community we've created will stand by and stand up, at least for the short term, till I feel stable and functional again, and finally able to do at least some of the tasks that need to be done. I'll never be able to do it all; I honestly couldn't have done any of this without him.

What kept me going all along was the communal energy; the fact that he and I were doing this together, that we invited others in to share, that something greater than the parts was being created. Never a dream or a goal, it felt more like a gift, to share this place and bring good energy in, to recreate the vibrance that was once a part of my grandfather's garden. Maybe even a last hurrah for one of the few pieces of undeveloped land in the neighborhood.

Perhaps in some ways this is a plea to other gardeners, neighbors and friends - to be there at least for now, to help, to support, to create. I would welcome and be grateful for that in ways beyond words.