Learning to grow at the community garden

I've never successfully grown a vegetable in my life. But this year I aim to try. I now have my own 6 by 6 plot at a community garden in Hamilton.

On a recent frigid Sunday, the rookies and returning vets gathered at our spread. It's a curious spot. A low piece of land bordered by RR tracks, and a truck route. A ramshackle warehouse, seized by the city for taxes owing, forms another boundary, and just beyond that, gigantic freighters are docked, unloading seed to make vegetable oil. The joint as they say, is loaded with atmosphere.

Many of the plots are gardened by immigrants and refugees. As I walked down the rows looking for my plot I noted the names, Azad, Mohhamed, Ishmael, Biswas...

When I found my heap of dirt I met my neighbour. Ollie is from Romania where he used to have lots of land. Our plots border a chain link fence, hard by the RR tracks...it's a prized location, because you can use the fence to grow things like peas and beans.

The first thing Ollie told me to do was to start pilling the rocks up from my plot, against the fence. Otherwise some little animal. "That looks like a dog," say Ollie, worms underneath the fence and eats the peas.

The second thing he told me to do was to get my husband to do the heavy digging. Right on Ollie.

I did a little digging, I did a little raking, I started to feel like Cool Hand Luke.

The amiable straw boss of the community garden, Craig Rushton handed out seeds, advice - bring you own toilet paper for the outhouse - and a sign up sheet for chores. The week of July 15th you'll find me making - not serving - compost tea.

I spent a fair piece of time staring at the cold soil, envisioning rows upon row of beautiful heirloom vegetables, while other gardeners whizzed past me with wheelbarrows full of manure. I wasted more time raking paths that didn't need raking and straightening up the tools in the communal shed, where it was warm.

On my next visit I want to build some raised beds, they will be easier on my arthritic joints. I am seeking a magic solution that will minimize bending, stooping, kneeling and twisting. I'm not lazy but I already have one ceramic hip, and no doubt number two is waiting for me in the future.

I'll get some advice from Ollie about growing chili peppers; I'll solicit others for advice on growing mustard greens and lemon grass. I'll look forward to the open kitchens organized by Craig. There could be sessions on salsa and curry and pesto.

I'm looking forward to learning from an international group of gardeners. Maybe they will know how to manage weeds and outwit wireworms and potato beetles.

But there will be more to learn than the muddy mechanics of gardening.

It's called empathy.

In the smallest, most insignificant way I felt what it is like to be displaced. I was away from my own garden where I have everything I need at my fingertips. In the community plot you share tools, you might have to wait for a shovel. You carry water. You stand in line for handouts of seeds. You want mulch? It might be here next week. Want a place to sit in your plot? Bring you own stool.

When the season ends I may know how to grow romaine, but for sure I will have learned more patience and humility.