Pick me! Pick me! I have been waiting weeks to introduce my vertical community fence garden to the world. Well, maybe that was a little theatrical: to the STREET at least.
My vertical community fence garden seedlings have been growing well for the last six weeks so I decided, with much enthusiasm, they were ready for public-picking. Numerous kale and coriander plants had taken well and I figured they could withstand some general prodding and plucking of leaves. By all accounts I calculated that their leaves at least should be able to contribute to a number of breakfast smoothies and grace a few fish dinners. Not too shoddy at all.
But how do I tell passersby that it’s OK to pick from the garden? After all, it’s not ‘the norm’ in a quiet suburban street to have a gutter garden, facing the road, growing vegetables!
When I was tending the plants just the other week a neighbourhood walking group in full stride stopped for a natter. They grasped the concept and nodded in approval. “Make sure you lead by example and pick some in a few weeks” were my parting words. A kind soul suggested that I write a sign, which seemed like perfectly sensible idea. How would people otherwise know that the herbs and veges were for public consumption, right?
I whipped up some signs which I pegged to the side of the garden…and off I slipped into the morning air for a spin in Bertie (the MGB).
Later I returned home to find it WORKED! Well, kind of worked! The vertical community fence garden had certainly been frequented in my absence and indeed picked but unfortunately they picked and removed the whole plants rather than just the leaves!
Fair enough I thought. My sign was hardly fool-proof. There is some education to be done in this neck of the woods. I have some refining to do. Once I’ve nurtured some new young plants to replace them my sign will read “PICK ONLY MY LEAVES, so I can keep growing”
More success: I have lots of borage seedlings growing in my vege patch. I didn’t plant them. They self-seeded, bunkered down and settled in. Being a good landlord I thought it best to rehouse them rather than turf them to compost.
I’d dug up my wayward borage seedlings and gave them away at the garden gate too in egg carton punnets and salvaged toilet rolls. That worked a treat. Borage is the most hardy, glorious herb I know. It’s flowers are just gorgeous and the bees love them to bits. I hope other households in my street enjoy them too.
So if you are passing by, do watch out for my sign. Pick what you can eat, leave the plant, and it can keep growing for the next passerby.
