Because I only get to there a few times a week, there’s sometimes a slight feeling of dread when I head to the community garden. I’m never quite sure how weedy things have become in just a few days, or whether something has gone pear-shaped and will require more attention than I have time for.
But inevitably, most times, the apprehension seems to melt away once I arrive and dig in. There’s a calm that takes over that defies logic.
I was alarmed when I arrived last weekend to birdhouse had toppled and crashed into ground. The house landed on a large rhubarb plant and I dreaded what I might find.
The contents had spilled out and I fished under the rhubarb to assess the damage. Bird nests are not necessarily a cute array of straw and grasses. Sure, there was some straw, but there was also aqua-colored plastic twine, small pieces of clear plastic sheeting, small bits of broken plastic odds and ends, black string, large feathers. Not attractive to us, but apparently what’s appealing for the tenants. I held my breath as I looked to see if there was a bird. Relieved, none seemed to be around.
I righted the pole and the house. As I walked back from bringing some of my harvest to the community food bank cooler we keep onsite, it seemed the tenants — or some new ones — were already looking to move back in. (This was taken at a distance with my iPhone, so a bit blurry).
This calamity aside, it was exciting to bring home a delicius array of greens this week. Lettuces, chard, kale and pak choi were in full swing. So much goodness from a handful of seeds.