Six years ago, when the boys were wee babies and I was often tired and overwhelmed, I used to occasionally pack up both boys and a double stroller that only barely fit into my small station wagon and drive a couple of miles west to walk at
Do*wling Community Garden. Dow*ling is a fairly vast community garden, one of the oldest in the country, and one of two remaining
Victory Gardens dating back to World War II. During the height of the Victory Garden movement, over
40 percent of fresh vegetables consumed in the United States were grown in Victory Gardens. Dowlin*g is one of only 2 remaining Victory Gardens in the U.S.
The grounds are lovely and flat, and I loved walking the stroller along the paths, watching things grow, seeing how other vegetable gardeners like myself trellised, interplanted, and mulched. It seems cooler and breezy down by the river, and there are woods with paths, and an orchard to walk through. One afternoon, I looked down at my 8-pound babies and had a mental image of 2 healthy, strong boys running off into the woods there, and thought that perhaps when they are older, they could take part in this lovely community of gardeners with me, climbing the trees, roaming the woods, and enjoying a tiny slice of country life in our fair city. I submitted my name to the waiting list inside a small box on a pole at the edge of the garden. It felt a little foolish, I remember - to think I could tend anything beyond my new brood at a time when it seemed such a difficult thing to even find time to mow the lawn.
For years, I heard nothing. I checked in a couple of years ago, and found out the list was so very long, it had been closed. I gave up hope of getting a plot there, thinking it was just too unlikely we'd ever be called up. When they were one, and two, and probably three, it would have been impossible - they would have climbed all over things they shouldn't. At four, and five, it would have been a challenge, but maybe possible. But then, this spring, we got a call: our name had come up, there was a plot available for the modest price of $25 per year and 6 hours of work; compost, water, and access to a shed full of tools included. And they are six; old enough to roam without being constantly within my sight, to follow some rules reliably and well, to really help, even. This is the perfect age for such things.

Our plot came with a bed of strawberries, a rhubarb plant, and some garlic chives and onions. It had been rototilled, and there was a pole bean structure in need of some fixing. The soil needs some work - it is sandy and gray, but already, it had the bones of a lovely garden - 20 x 20 in full sun for much of the day, and close to the water spigot and tool shed. There are gardeners who have been part of this community for 40 years or more, and I often hear the laughter and banter of good friends calling between the plots. Once a month or so on a Saturday morning, a class is offered on seed-saving or some such topic. It is nice not to garden in isolation, and I've learned a few things already this year. And the sun! I've never had the luxury or growing things in full sun before, and what it difference that makes.

Sometimes the boys help, digging or watering, but most often they play and climb.


There are many kids who play and build in these woods as their parents dig and weed and water.





Sometimes we put their bikes on the rack and they ride all over.


We often meet people here for picnics, combining a little gardening and social time.

(Don't you love the mother-son resemblance in the picture below?)






The boys have named the paths in the woods, and some of the trees. They have claimed a spot under the trees and brush as their "camp", and made a pretend fire ring, and a structure out of sticks.

Do you remember doing this? I do. Kids don't often get the opportunity anymore, at least not here.


They run off together, into the woods, strong and lean and glorious, and check in with me to tell me their discoveries. I tell them mine - the beans are up, the berries are ripe - our souls are filled near to bursting with all that is growing and whole. Sometimes good things come our way at just the right time.