Community Gardening

While I was hanging out on Saturday afternoon in New York, I got the chance to meet Glennalicious, who introduced me to fellow Bostonian, Ready,Reset,Go. While we were chatting Glenn was asking me about my garden and RRG asked, "Which community garden?"

When I said I was in the Fenway Victory Gardens, RRG started laughing and enlightened Glenn as to the nature of this particular park. It is probably the premier cruising park in Boston. The amount of sexual activity that goes on in the bushes there makes the backroom of the Eagle look like a meeting of the DAR. Needless to say this creates it's own challenges for those of us who have more interest in the flora of the gardens other than the effects of massive quantities of semen on phragmites. (A less than scientific, anecdotal observation would be that it causes then to spread like kudzu.)I always feel as though spring has not really arrived until the used condoms begin to bloom in my own little patch of heaven.

Another harbinger of spring is the unknown denizen of the park that my friend and gardening neighbor, Mike, has designated, "The Mad Defecator". TMD comes in the night and deposits rather impressive loads in front of peoples gates, like some tooth fairy with a severe incontinence problem. In spite of the rather disgusting nature of this phenomena, we find ourselves, horrifyingly, impressed. Not merely by the volume, which I am at a loss for words to describe. Having grown up around farms, I can say that livestock probably leave smaller flops. What is really mind boggeling is the consistency. Mike and I compared notes, and I told him about one particularly fascinating deposit that arrived in front of my gate that looked as though TMD had managed to shit out an organ. We had thought that TMD had especially chosen aisle E as his designated poop drop, but speaking with another friend Rick, I have found that TMD makes the rounds in a democratic manner to all of the gardens. If it makes me feel a little less special, it is nice to know that TMD is willing to give his all to the entire gardening community in his al fresco crapping habits.

Another challenge is fence maintenance. Because as the Motels once sang, "the days are okay, but the nights were made for love." During the course of any given night, year round, some desperately horny 'mo will climb over the fence or kick in the gate of someones garden in order to get their mojo on. This has brought about some interesting ideas for dealing with the problem. Since we are gardening in a public park, we are not allowed to string up barbed wire, dig tiger traps, construct Rube Goldberg devices, or in any way produce any hazard that could endanger the general public. Except of course for roses.

I am not particularly fond of roses as a garden plant. They tend to the prima dona and are vulnerable to all sorts of pests. However I have been cultivating climbing roses on my fence, since they are natures barbed wire. So far my choices have hinged far more on the viciousness of the thorns than any actual consideration of aesthetics. At one point someone suggested a bourbon rose, that really was very pretty, and fragrant, and I was on the point of getting out the credit card, when the fateful words, "and the best part is, it has no thorns" were spoken. The 2 varieties that currently grace my fence could gut an elephant and I have just planted a 3rd that I have high hopes for. If they sold a plant that would assault intruders, I'd buy it.

The whole challenge level has risen as well. In the advent of the crystal meth epidemic, we usually will find syringes in paths and our gardens. There have been nights when you could tell that some particularly good stuff was going around by the amount of vandalism. Hell may have no fury such as a woman scorned in love, but some tweeked out their mind queen, who ain't gettin' any is a force nine hurricane. The damage assessment on some mornings is enough to make you give it all up and find some other way to fill up your time in a way that you can find meaningful. However, collecting stamps doesn't have the same thrill. At least not for me. I am sure that philatelists enjoy the same thrill over their stamp collections as I do in my garden, it's just that stamp collecting and getting out in the healthy fresh air are not 2 things I would ordinarily put together.

Which brings us back to al fresco sex. I have no strong objections to people having it on in the great outdoors. While a Ganome would never in his life (oh crap, once you get that mud on your shoes it never comes off) dream of getting his sex on out in the shrubs, much less the dunes out on the cape, (thank god I am pretty nearly immune to poison ivy) a Ganome knows that other folks are gonna. That's fine. REALLY! I just want them to keep their dumb horny asses in the reeds and the hell out of my garden. I don't feel like I am asking too much. Now, if I can just find some of those man eating plants in the old B sci-fi movies I saw as a kid in the White Flower Farm catalog, I'll be all set.