Cover Letter
Observing the community that I picked is something that I never thought I would ever do. A community only being a couple blocks from my house it never crossed my mind to just simply go in there and see how they interact with each other and the things around them. I selected the community garden as my observation choice because that is something that I have never really thought about until I started to work in one. Seeing how these individuals come together and take time out there day to work in someplace for no reward except the comfort of each other, how could I not document something like that? Documenting this community, the most interesting thing that I came across(as stated in my essay) was the age of everyone who was gardening. Every single person who was gardening was of the older age, and I did not see anyone my age. I thought some kids would come to the garden out of curiosity or interest, but I was wrong. After the observation, as I worked on my essay, I decided that I wanted to craft a narrative that focused on the reasons why someone would go to a community garden. Why wake up in the morning and go to a community garden when you could have done a million other things? What about the garden made you want to tend to it? These are the sort of questions that I had coming into this assignment. The essay itself was something that I have never really done before as a class assignment. I essentially wrote a “story” that would then have an underlying message behind whether it be subliminal or on the nose. It had its difficulties but nothing I could not overcome. Working on this assignment, the course learning outcome that I feel that I have achieved was formulating and articulating a stance through my writing because of the way I structured my narrative around the idea of community gardens. Thus, this is my experience with the observation assignment.
Samuel Thomas
Jennifer Buno
Writing For The Social Sciences
12/5/23
Community Gardens From The Perspective of A Young Man
As I wait outside of the gate in the cold November air, I feel a sense of warmth from the place I am about to enter. In front of me I see a large gate which on top of it is a large common New York Parks sign and in bold letters shows the name of the garden; Jardin De La Famila. Behind the gate, I see a large garden composed of multiple plants in garden beds that seem to be taken care of. Rosemary, Basil, and Cilantro just to name a few. This being in the Bronx, and being near my home which is a housing complex, this something that stands out. As of right now it is eight in the morning and the garden does not open till 9. As I sit outside on the bench waiting for the garden to open, I think about how many people actually come here. I think about why the individuals spend their free time to come to a garden and take care of it. As I contemplate this, the person who oversees the garden and a couple of other people with them comes and unlocks the gate. As I walk into the garden, I automatically feel a sense of welcoming in the garden. I feel as if the people here want me to be here, even if they do not know me. The air is a little bit colder today, so most of the people here are wearing heavy layers as they begin to get ready to garden. As these individuals begin to work, I quietly get out of their way and start to observe them. These are older folks, between their early forties and late sixties. Seeing them work was something that was truly mesmerizing. From their low grunts to their heavy sighs and seeing them wipe the sweat of their brows, I can tell that they are giving this garden everything that they have and more. The smell of dry leaves and mulch filled the air as I continued to watch them which made it all the better. However, seeing this, I can see that the garden work is starting to catch up to them. They move a little bit sluggish as they work for a long period of time. Nonetheless, they do these tasks with such immense enjoyment you cannot help but feel infected by it.
As I continue to see them work, I am brought back to my original thought: why do these individuals come here almost every morning and take care of this garden? I am so compelled by this thought that I force myself to walk up to one of these elderly and ask them. I walk over a narrow path that is filled up with red mulch that feels like sand beneath my feet and walk up to a elderly black woman dressed in all purple. I introduced myself to her, and she introduced herself. “I am the purple lady,”she says with a large sense of bravado, as if this name is something that she worked hard to get. I thought to myself what a strange name to have, so I asked her about it. “I got this name because I planted all purple flowers on the edge there”, she states. Around the edge of the gate are a series of saplings that seem to not have bloomed yet, which I guess will be purple when they actually bloom. Fascinated by her, I asked the main question that has brought me here in the first place, “ Why do you come here and spend your free time going to a garden and taking care of it?” She looked at me apprehensively as if I just asked the dumbest question in the world; “ It’s really simple. I do it because it’s my home. I lived here for so many years, how could I not come here and take care of it”, she said impatiently as she was taking out weeds.
Although her answer seemed efficient for her, it was not enough for me. Yes, this was her home, but there are plenty of different ways to take care of said home instead of coming all the way out here to take care of a garden. Why did she come here specifically, what about the garden made her want to take care of it? I asked her these questions and again she looked at me as if I was an idiot. “This garden is a safe space for everybody, really the only one in this community. For people like us, if it’s not here, it’s out there in the streets. I protect this garden as a way for us to come together and make something that’s for everybody.” With that she walks away from me and continues to oversee the other gardeners. Her answer was able to satisfy me. She comes to this garden in order for everyone to come together. However, what really disturbed me was, where is everyone? I look around me and only see a handful of people out here, and most of them are elderly people of color. Where are the people my age that care about making a safe space, because I know that they are out there. One of these days, these people are no longer going to be here and who is going to take care of the garden then?
Ironically, I believe that younger people who want to include themselves into this garden will find it very easy to include themselves into it. The people who worked there had many simple rules and regulations when it came to the garden. No smoking of any sorts near or inside of the garden, no disrespect of one another, and being mindful where you step in the garden. The community itself is very welcoming and thoughtful, so I see no point of people my age not being able to join.
My message to whoever reads this is not to let the sacrifices of those who came before us go to waste because we refuse to involve ourselves in things outside of ourselves. You may never know how much you would enjoy something until you take your time to actually do it. Thus, go out into your neighborhood and find ways to make it great for other people.
