A sharp blast of northerly wind blows through the community gardens. I'm feeling hurried. I need to get my plot into some semblance of order before our first snowstorm comes tonight. I get out my pruning shears to prune off the last of the drying leaves and twigs of my hyssop and pull up my dried-up tomato plants that grew so valiantly this last summer.
     I think back, remembering the sweet taste of those tomatoes. They grew in such abundance that I didn't even groom the plants, and even the suckers that were supposed to be pinched off grew many tomato fruits. This tells me that when you see a good thing happening, step out of it's way and let it go! Don't let the stricture of correctness bind true growth. I hope to take a cue on this for my own personal growth.
     Here in the Foothills, the winds begin to blow strong. I'm thinking I've got to make sure that the bags of leaves that I collected this last fall don't blow into the neighbors' yards. The leaves will help my compost break down into a rich and more balanced mix to feed my garden. I'm reminding myself that in order to get more growth out of my garden, I need to put more effort into it, like putting the leaves into the compost mix, turning the compost, and working this compost into the garden soil for the new little seedlings to feed from. I can almost see this happening now. I can hardly wait 'til spring!
     I pen the bags of leaves with the tall wire tomato cages, pinning them to the ground with stakes. I stake down the garden chairs too.
     I finish my garden work by collecting the large amount of dried garden debris. I load it off in a wheelbarrow and add it to the community garden's communal compost pile. This gives me great satisfaction knowing that what I have discarded from my garden will help the whole of the community gardens. Some of the compost being created will be sold; and the money will help the children's garden program, helping them feel great about themselves. This is community helping community.
     It's getting dark out now, and my husband's home with the kids. I feel their pull, and I smell the moisture building in the air. I look back at my plot, number 509, and say goodnight and goodbye for the year. I did a good job putting my perennials to bed for the winter, and now it's time to go home and get into my own bed.
     Now I can dream up some new ideas, new colors, and new flavors for next year's garden. Hmmm.... This should keep me happy through the cold and darkness of winter.

Aspen Marks