On a mundane run to the grocery store recently, the cashier
noticed me hungrily eyeballing a basket of nearby seed packets. “Like to garden?” she asked. My face lit up, and after a quick chat about
what I was doing with FoodCorps—developing local food security and providing
nutrition education to kids in our community—she was sold. “They’re yours,” she said. “Grow us some good food!” She handed me a bag of dozens of seed
packets. Carrots, zucchini, basil,
eggplant, kale; all would find a home at our Campus Community Garden. The woman behind me in line perked up. “Hey, you guys need some pots for those
seeds?” Next thing I know, I’m sitting
in her kitchen as she gathers seed starting supplies to donate to the cause.
And so, finally, the winter winds are dying down. Outside the window of my small cabin, finches
wake me up with the dawn. The air is
thick with the scent of chokecherry flowers, the late-setting sun is generous
in its warmth, and the soil is finally dry enough to work. Springtime in Montana has arrived, and the garden
is buzzing with activity. The little
town of Dillon feels it too, and is eager to dig in.
The problem with a warm spring and a short growing season
is, it’s just impossible to
wait. The first balmy breeze that blows
through town sends us scrambling to the garden, poking seeds into the soil even
against our better judgment. One of the
first sunny days in March, students trouped up to the garden, cast aside their
spring jackets, and got busy. They
moistened the soil, filled the pots, sowed the seeds, and packed our Solar Gem
greenhouse to the gills. They chatted
casually about their favorite foods, and swapped stories of growing various
veggies with Grandpa, and marveled at the difference between the tiny carrot
and giant squash seeds. They didn’t need
to be told how important this “experiential education” was. Learning by doing is intuitive, and getting
your hands dirty is just fun.
By mid-April our greenhouse was bursting with starts. The tomatoes were a foot tall! The cukes had three leaves! The students
were beaming like proud parents.
By the end of April, our greenhouse was mostly empty. A 12 degree night and a window left
mistakenly gaping had reduced nearly all our warm-season veggies to mush. Such is the life at 6000’, in Montana’s fickle
spring! There was nothing to do but
start over. Maybe it was the return of
the sun’s heat on our backs, but nobody seemed too discouraged. Volunteers rallied in true
small-town-emergency style, and within a day the Solar Gem was packed with
fresh soil and new seeds.
The students, and the garden crew, learned some valuable
lessons through the ordeal. Be
patient. Don’t give up. Help your friends, and let them help
you. And now, with a little hard work
and a lot of faith, the garden is ready to go, once again.
This makes me feel much better. Last week all of our tomatoes and basil frosted in our hoop house because of leaks under the door...live and learn I guess! Sounds like you've gotten some great work accomplished! Thanks for doing what you do.
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