Kitchen Gardeners International: Gardening: Can less be more?

By Aditi Gowri

How much should I garden? My answer has changed quite a bit in the last two years. It was fun to brag that I ate from my own (no-till, permaculturish, heavily mulched) soil every day in Texas. I also fed friends and an AIDS food pantry for much of the year.

Things are different in Centretown Ottawa, with only a 3 x 3 metre flower bed to replace a 20 x 40 metre property. Last year I was ready to break up our paved drive! This year I limited myself to
• One Sweet 100 tomato, on the black fence piece;
• Four mystery determinates;
• Four basil leftover from Sally’s 18-pack splurge, foreground;
• Two habaneros — my Southern pet;
• Small patch of mesclun that mostly bolted at the shift of seasons;
• Small patch of radish (ditto). I stir fried the seed pods;
• A few beets;
• One white Italian zucchini — friends told me not to, I had to clip it back often, but it fed me the most;
• A dozen multiplying onions;
• Sunflowers and coneflowers, technically edible though I don’t;
• One mystery gourd, purchased in a styrofoam coffee cup for a dollar, labelled only in Chinese characters;
• Two miniature round cucumbers. Seeds labelled only in Italian. These and the gourd are just visible in early August, climbing a string towards the juniper.

But then, there is a farmer’s market on the bus line that goes by my house, and lots of small Asian grocers in walking distance. We have libraries, community centres, public parks, indoor public sport and play areas, cultural sites and temples of every flavour in this dense, multi-ethnic urban residential neighbourhood. So my own garden isn’t the only fun that’s easy to get to.

And then there is Winter. We had frost last week, even right downtown. My habanero plants hang by their ankles from the kitchen ceiling, slowly ripening a second crop of fruit. The roommates consider things to do underneath that would be suitably hotter than mistletoe …

It’s not so much that Canadians and other Northern people lose interest in plant life and soil over the Winter. It’s that we must somehow sustain our souls, our sense of place, and not least our bodies for the 5 or 7 frozen months. So we grow in other ways. Growing by ourselves and for ourselves in January is just not possible — emotionally, physically or infrastructurally. We need each other more than we need Nature, and we know it. Nasty old bus drivers let people on without a ticket because it’s not conceivable to leave them in the cold.

We need fresh foods in Winter too. So imagine 50 families on an urban block, with 50 sprouters and 50 sets of grow lights for salad greens. Such was my ambition when I moved here. I’d be happier and healthier tending indoor crops than a television. But I’d still be isolated. And in Winter, that’s much less bearable.

So I let small local business do the greenhousing. The bean sprouts and watercress in Chinatown are not certified organic, but they smell very good. And instead of tending plants, I spend the dark season at potlucks, homebrew nights, living room song circles and local pub tune sessions. For me, it’s a saner life.

In Winter we need a collective infrastructure to sustain us. But then we can’t ask it to go away for half a year. It might not come back when we need it next Fall! Social sustainability means I must be there for people if I want them to be there for me when I need them. So I support the same social spaces and businesses in Summer, too.

There’s more to it than that. I’m not sure it’s green to garden a lot. I’m pretty sure it’s much more important that I live in a house shared with four other adults. And that we’ve chosen to live where transport means walk, bike or bus. Human sustainability on the planet is going to require almost everyone to live in dense urban environments where we use very little fuel.

Growing a lot of food “homestead” style in Texas gave me a feeling that I was connected to the earth. I was also proud of my self-sufficiency. But now I feel that I was lying to myself… because of course I used a set of metal tools, a car to carry supplies and deliver food, and a lawn mower for chopping leaves. Roads, fuel, water … I wonder if it took more or less of the planet’s energy overall for me to grow food or for it to be grown for me? When I ate “my own” crops, I didn’t think about the roads, fuel, city water, and other social systems I depended upon to raise them. But really, was it so different from depending on the economy of Chinatown for my greens in Winter?

So these days I garden less but I think and write more about sustainable living. I worry less about getting every bit of uneaten biomass from kitchen back to soil. I am less in touch with soil itself, but more in touch with the earth and the city as a human habitat. And even in August, I’d rather sing with my buddies than talk to my squash.

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Photo credits: Thanks to Kara a.k.a. “Doc” for taking my picture (1) at 7:00 a.m. before leaving for a day’s hospital duties. She’s standing on top of her tiny sedan, blocking a lane of traffic. (2) The view from Sally’s balcony.

Posted by KGI on September 30, 2006 2:34 PM to Kitchen Gardeners International
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