During our business class in massage school, we had to write down the five things we most wanted to do before we died.

One of mine was to grow an amazing food garden.

I’ve been an apartment dweller my entire adult life, and a busy one at that. How on earth would I ever end up with the time, space, and energy for proper gardening?

No guarantees on the “proper” part, but I finally have a garden.

Four of us, all apartment dwellers, are growing food in my brother-in-law’s back yard. It’s just a little patch, mostly tomatoes, chili peppers, and herbs, with a cobbled-together compost bin in the back. We take turns watering and weeding and squealing about it online.

None of us have ever done this before. It might not be much of a harvest. But we have so much fun in the meantime, gathering to cook meals together or play cards or finish putting up a woodchuck fence.

Although it’s on private land, my garden is a “community” garden, in the truest sense of the word. It was only because of the community that any of us could build the garden. And it’s only because of the garden that this community came to be.