Tales from the Garden

The 4-H shed and, nearby, the
Medfield Community Garden

Running a 75-plot community garden is a delicate balancing act, and Betty and I take our responsibilities seriously. Despite my self-appointed title of Garden Ogre, I attempt to enforce guidelines with as soft a touch as possible. Betty’s role is one of rendering assistance on all matters horticultural, and she will take all the time necessary to debunk bad internet myths and offer advice based on actual science and real-world experience rather than something dreamed up by a clueless would-be Tik-Tok star.

Yesterday brought events from both ends of the management spectrum.

First, the good news. Four years ago, a new gardener, recently retired from the academic world, joined the Community Garden family. An engineer by training, he also became part of the garden’s corps of volunteers; mending hoses and refurbishing our fleet of wheelbarrows. He further agreed to help stake the garden in the spring and clear ‘problem’ plots in the fall. All of these activities fall under the heading of thankless tasks.

The injured gardener maintains our fleet
of a dozen wheelbarrows

In late March, that gardener had a fall that left him with serious injuries to a leg and foot. He notified me he was unlikely to be able to have a garden this season as he would need one or more surgeries and rehabilitation that would last into summer. My response to him was that it was too soon to make such an irreversible decision. Two garden friends put up his fence; including digging a 100-foot-long trench around the plot’s perimeter to ensure critters could not sneak in uninvited.

That first good deed was the start of many more. His plot neighbors began planting the garden he had envisioned for the season. They weeded and they watered. I have counted no fewer than four helpers whom I have spotted in his plot; working diligently to ensure all is well in his absence.

Volunteers put up the fence around the
injured gardener's plot, including
digging a trench for it

Three days ago, I made a walking tour of the garden and made notes on plots where either no gardening has yet taken place (an ominous sign) or weeds have started appearing among vegetables planted at the season’s beginning in April. I also noted the sterling appearance of our wounded gardener’s plot and wrote off a note to him.

A few hours later I received a reply. I will not quote it out of a respect for a private communication, but his reaction was one of sheer awe that so many people cared. I can honestly say I was choked up as I read it. In a world where altruism is supposed to be passé, a group of people whose sole connection to one another is a shared love of gardening have come together to give one of their own a continuing helping hand.

While watering this morning, I ran into one of the benefactors. She had in her hands several tomatillo plants ready to go into the housebound gardener’s plot. They were, in turn, a gift from yet another benefactor. Truly, there is hope for mankind.

On the other side of the garden, though, something quite different was going on.

Gardeners can over-winter fencing and stakes
in the 4-H shed

Not all of our gardening families have houses with spacious garages, sheds, or basements. And, so, the community garden offers off-season storage of garden fencing, stakes, and tomato cages in a small building across from the garden. The shed will hold material for roughly 25 families and preference is given to people living in multi-family dwellings. All material has to be tightly tied together and labeled with the owner’s name. The shed is locked on November 1 and re-opened only when the garden formally opens April 1. From then on, it is open for the season as gardeners retrieve their supplies.

Before I lock the shed for the season, I make certain all those stakes and fences are tagged, and the names are legible. There is a list of the people who have requested space and I make certain no interlopers have decided one more roll of fencing among 25 won’t be noticed.

The system worked exceptionally well… until this year. On April 1, I unlocked the shed and checked to see everything was still where it was supposed to be. All was right with the world.

Loaner 'Ogre' fencing was available
in an adjacent lean-to

Ten days later, one gardener notified me he had gone to the shed and his fencing bundle was missing. I went to the shed, did my own search, and came to the same conclusion. Yet I knew the bundle was there at the beginning of the month.

There were two possibilities. The first was that someone, likely a new gardener, had erroneously concluded the fencing in the shed was part of the ‘Ogre Fencing’ available for loan to first-year gardeners and stored in an adjacent lean-to. The second possibility was someone filched it.

I queried the garden community but no one had any information. In the meantime, the gardener with the missing fencing purchased new material – spending just over $200 (that’s what it costs!). He put up his new fencing. I said I would try to seek reimbursement for him from the Community Garden Revolving Fund into which all our plot fees are deposited.

Then, the gardener – let’s call him Gardener #1 – took a walk through the now-mostly-fenced community garden and spotted what he was certain were his materials. He contacted me and told me the plot number. It took some time, but I made contact with the individual – a new gardener who would have invited to use Ogre Fencing. I asked the new gardener if there might have been a mistake. The gardener – let’s call him Gardener #2 – stated unequivocally, that the fencing was his.

To me, that closed the issue. I didn’t demand receipts. Somehow, for the first time in more than a decade, someone from outside the garden community had gone into the shed and pilfered someone’s fencing. I reported this to Gardener #1 and repeated that I was going to seek restitution on his behalf.

Restitution, unfortunately, was not as easy as reaching for a checkbook. First, a decision had to be made by someone in authority that such an unprecedented reimbursement was a good idea. The second was actually getting the check written. (I know this because it took six weeks to get reimbursed for the stakes and string used to mark out the garden.) I communicated all this to the gardener.

Unfortunately, as the wheels of progress ground slowly and inconclusively, Gardener #1’s belief hardened that Gardener #2 was using purloined material. It so happened that, yesterday morning, the two gardeners (who had never met) were in the garden at the same time. Gardener #1 went to Gardener #2’s plot and… heated words were exchanged.

Each party emailed me; Gardener #2’s note included a copy of the receipt for the fencing he had purchased. I wrote an apology to Gardener #2, which settled at least that side of the issue. I also wrote Gardener #1 reiterating my earlier statement that, in my mind, the ‘stolen fencing’ question had been resolved as soon as Gardener #2 said the fencing was his own. I further wrote that, if Gardener #1 had an argument with anyone, it should be with me.

Before I became a Garden Ogre in 2009, I had a 35-year career in the corporate world, complete with fancy management titles. I sometimes witnessed (or had a hand in) cooperation across groups that already had a full plate of responsibilities and no spare manpower to lend a hand to struggling peers. Somehow, in hindsight, those examples of selflessness were less inspiring than what I saw this week in the actions of half a dozen gardeners. I also resolved many problems where I had to determine who was right, who was wrong, and enforce my decision. For reasons I will make no effort to explore, those long-ago clashes of ego and power seem less consequential to me than the problems between two gardeners.