Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

Years ago Rick Nelson sang a song titled “Garden Party.” I thought of it this evening as I walked from our condo to the clubhouse for an organizational meeting regarding the community garden the residents are planning for this summer. Some green-thumbed souls have already roto-tilled the 40’ by 60’ plot behind building twelve.

Nelson’s garden wasn’t such a pastoral site. Rather, he was singing about Madison Square Garden and performing before thousands of screaming fans. It probably included incredible decibel sound and strobe lights to. Our performance relies on rakes and hoes and weeding instead of guitars and drums and song. It depends on rain and sun in appropriate proportions. Still the analogy fits. Both venues are about belonging, joining the fun, being part of it and reaping the benefits. Who’s to say if money or tomatoes are more satisfying?

Earl is at a meeting, but I suspect he won’t be surprised when he returns to find I’m now the treasurer of this newly formed group. I view it as a way of learning more about our new neighbors while not necessarily getting dirt under my fingernails. In other words, it’s a way to attend the local version of a garden party.