The complicated world of community gardens

Some 45 years ago I was advisory neighborhood commissioner for my section of Cleveland Park in DC  and clearly one of the most difficult tasks, which I never resolved, was how to handle the local community garden. It was public space but those who had obtained rights to it thought tit was a lifetime privilege whereas others demanded that a time limit be put on it. As this article, suggests, the problems of community gardens have expanded considerably - Sam Smith

Washington City Paper -  With 220 plots there’s significant turnover at Newark Street. Garden president Maureen Spagnolo estimates that there are 40 new gardeners each year. She brings in a master gardener from Virginia, Larry Rice, who offers seminars such as how to “put your garden to bed” in the fall. “A few of our other gardeners go around to people’s plots if they’ve got questions,” Spagnolo says. “There’s lots of camaraderie there.”

But with any shared space inevitably comes conflict. Most plays out in breathless group email chains. At the Bruce Monroe Community Garden in Ward 1, for example, there was a dust up in July after a gardener named Mohammad wrote an email to his fellow gardeners where he singled out a garden-mate for getting too “angry, upset, or emotional” about theft in the garden even though he himself described “thieves” as “mainly low-income undocumented immigrants” who “got angry and threw rocks at him.”

(Theft is a somewhat common occurrence in community gardens. Gardeners report camouflaging watermelons in paper bags and growing cherry tomatoes instead of sought-after heirlooms.)

“It’s amazing how much drama comes from community gardens,” says DPR Community Garden Specialist Josh Singer. He’s held the position for six years and has been a community garden evangelist in D.C. even longer. “They’re great practice for people to learn how to be in a community, get along, and problem solve. We help train people in mediation—especially garden managers. Some of them deal with tough situations.”

Community gardens on DPR land are volunteer cooperatives that must self-govern. “The idea is we help them organize with sample bylaws with the hope that they sustain themselves,” Singer says. The gardens should have a minimum of a garden manager, but some floral fiefdoms have more developed leadership structures like boards of directors and other volunteers who take on everything from ensuring the compost is nutrient rich to facing yellowjacket nests head-on.

DPR has unofficial materials to guide garden leaders in making and setting rules, but none will be enforceable by the city until there has been a public comment period this fall on the Community Garden Agreement all gardeners will be asked to sign in 2020. Sample suggestions include banning aggressive behavior, non-organic fertilizer, and any structures that block another plot’s sun.

Spagnolo is going into her third year as the president of Newark Street Community Garden, which has seven board members and a host of other volunteer positions. “In many ways we set the standard because we came up with our rules before the city came up with rules,” she says. “Now they’re coming up with rules, which is funny.”

Newark Street gardeners are expected to participate in a monthly work day; skip installing bird baths; plant things that creep, like mint, in containers; and utilize the majority of their plots for cultivation. Some rebels install tables and chairs. “That’s not what it’s supposed to be for,” Spagnolo says. “Generally people get away with this kind of thing. You don’t want to be too draconian after all.”

The most delicate job belongs to the volunteers on the rules committee who serve as plot monitors. These weed warriors make sure gardeners’ plots are at least partially planted by May 1 and are well maintained throughout the growing season in fairness to the 90 would-be gardeners on the waitlist. “Some gardeners can be angry and nasty about it even though the approach is usually a little note saying your plot has more weeds than are acceptable,” Spagnolo says. Gardeners get three warnings before losing their plot.

Felicity Amos says she has held that job. “People were so upset they were given citations,” she says. “I got hate mail.” She describes gardeners who were incredulous despite the fact that they hadn’t planted anything by July. “One summer I had 3,000 emails back and forth. I don’t get paid for this! It’s all volunteer.” She inhales. “Most people are so nice. It’s a very harmonious, idyllic little place.”