In baseball, teams take a winter break. Then, in early
February, busses ferry supplies to Florida or Arizona. Pitchers and catchers
come back. Then, the team reunites and the old guard gets to look over the crop
of rookies. In late March, the regular season begins.
Amazingly, much the same happens in community vegetable
gardens, or at least at the Medfield Community Garden I have overseen for the
(gulp) past 15 years in Boston’s southwest suburbs.
Back at the end of October, the garden shut down for the
winter. On November 1, I sent an email to all ‘gardeners in good standing’
asking if they wanted to return for the 2025 season. Once I had those results
in hand, I put my feet up for a few months. Except I didn’t. That November
email also asked gardeners what went right and what went wrong over the course
of the season. I mostly focused on the ‘where we screwed up’ responses and
figured out ways to address them, just like any good team manager.
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Public enemy Number One |
This past season, what was on everyone’s mind were “critters” digging
under or chewing through fences, and the stronger fences everyone was putting
up to keep the critters out. The complaint, though, was the hard work of taking
down those fences in the fall, only to have to re-install them five months
later. To save the three days of work at the beginning and end of the season,
could the fences stay up?
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Putting up and taking down fences every season was the chief complaint |
That’s what I did over the winter break: devised a rationale that
would get the approval of the Baseball Commission – er, the Medfield
Conservation Commission. Last evening, the Commission voted to try a ‘fences-stay-up’
experiment for the winter of 2025-2026. I don’t expect anyone to offer to carry
me into the garden on their shoulders. More like I’ll get a bucket of Gatorade
dumped over me,
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I try to make everyone happy. It isn't easy. |
On January 1, I emailed returning gardeners asking if they
really plan to come back and, if so, do they want to stay in the same size plot
and same location. A surprising number of respondents wanted a change. Seven
gardeners with half plots were ready to move up to full ones (from 300 to 600
square feet). One gardener elected to downsize. Them I sent around the plot
plan to those returning gardeners showing the plots that would be available to
new gardeners. Half a dozen gardeners ask to be switched to greener pastures
(or richer soil, maybe). After three weeks, everyone was happy with their
location.
On February 1, I asked returning gardeners to pony up for
their plots. At the same time, I reminded everyone that the best seeds aren’t
found on the shelves of big box stores. The gardening equivalent of those team
busses began collecting and disgorging seed orders as gardeners began going
through the Johnny’s of Maine and Pine Tree Seed catalogs and web sites.
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The wheelbarrows need to work to make food cupboard pickups possible |
At the same time, the management roster was pulled into shape.
Yes, community gardens have committees. The most important one deals with food
cupboard collections. We now have two dedicated 600 square foot plots where
volunteers grow food specifically to deliver to food pantries in Medfield and
nearby Medway. In advance of every distribution date, wheelbarrows need to be
set up at the front of the garden and ‘sweeps’ made to collect the produce
contributed by gardeners from their own plots. In weeks where both pantries are
having distributions, there will be twice-a-day sweeps four days a week. It
takes a lot of coordination.
Two people are required to mow the perimeter of the garden
using lawn mowers either donated or salvaged from the town’s transfer station.
Another person is needed to keep the lawn mowers running and yet another
volunteer has the inglorious task of keeping a fleet of 12 wheelbarrows
upright. Did I miss anyone? Probably.
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I collected lots of names |
On March 1, I will throw open the garden to new registrants. I
have 18 spots on the roster (OK, gardens) to fill. Fortunately, I collected 22
names at Discover Medfield Day. How many of those people will want to sign up?
I have no earthly idea. That’s why I do a full-court press (sorry, that’s
basketball) to get as many interested gardeners as possible. Ideally, I’ll even
have a wait list.
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Staking the garden for the new season |
In the last week of March, two events take place that tell
everyone the new season has started. There’s a talk on vegetable gardening at
the town library on Saturday morning which usually draws a standing-room-only
crowd (new gardeners are “strongly encouraged” to go). The nice part is old
hands also show up and introduce themselves to the rookies. The offers to help
are genuine. Friendships are born.
And, the next day, a team of a dozen volunteers marks out the
garden and puts down 240 stakes to show the corners of each full plot. It is
usually a comedy of errors, but it gets done. Eventually.
As soon as that’s finished, I throw the garden for everyone to
start doing their thing. Except, just like those painful-to-watch early season
baseball games where the snow has to be shoveled out of the stands, it’s really
too cold to start planting in New England. But, it’s all part of the tradition,
and who am I to question it?
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