Little City Gardens

For the past five months we have been blessed to have the company, support and helping hands of Courtney Leeds, our first intern.  She found us at a presentation that we gave to the Planting the City workshop put on by the San Fransisco Parks Trust.  When she approached us about getting involved we had never had an intern, but we were excited to see how we could incorporate an internship program into Little City Gardens.   So far it’s been a total pleasure.  Courtney helps in all aspects of our work.  She seeds, plants and weeds with us in the garden, shares ideas and techniques that she is learning in her permaculture class,  follows leads on tools and materials and business related questions, listens to our ideas and shares advice.  She is generous, smart, thoughtful and passionate.  You would love her too!
We asked her to write about her motivations for committing to the pursuit of growing food in the city. Here’s what she wrote:

I’ve been sitting here, for days, trying to pin point what draws me to agriculture. Why do I love it? How do I whole-heartedly know that I want to grow sustainable, accessible food forever? One definitive moment of clarity escapes me. Yet, when I look back over the arc of my experiences it all seems to make sense; the fuzzy explanations begin to crystallize when I string together my past and present.

My upbringing contributes more to the person I currently am than I often care to admit. Sometimes I like to pretend I am my own product, and not one of my environment, but the farther I move from my past the more I seem to gravitate to the rituals and customs of my childhood. I miss the long, hot days working on the growing grounds of my dad’s nursery; driving through expansive rice fields and almond orchards every time we left town; the burnt smell of autumn; grabbing summer-ripened tomatoes from our neighbors make-shift “U-Pick” stand. I chose to reject all of these familiarities when I moved to San Francisco at 17. I distanced myself from the quaintness of that life. In exchange, I was exposed to cultures and experiences that illuminated endless possibilities. I was opened to thoughts and sights and sounds that I would never trade. But, now, seven years later, I find myself drawn to where I came from. Not physically, but to the idea of that place. Of a slower, community-based place where “local” isn’t a coined term but reality.

The smells and tastes of the meals I ate as a child still remind me of love and comfort. Food is not only essential to survival but to the health of our emotional lives. So many of my fondest memories are formed around a table full of home-cooked delights; stories shared and relationships built while breaking bread. Yet, this vital life-force is very often taken for granted. We have become disconnected from the farm, and thus have forgotten where our food comes from and how to grow it.

In our dense urban environment it is important to be reminded of our food source, which is now hidden from view, and the role we play in its cultivation. Reimagine the urban landscape with food growing out of every corner and crack, visible to all. How differently would we think about what we eat knowing where it comes from?

Gardening reminds me how beautiful food is and of its true value: the thought and care and labor that goes into every leaf of lettuce, every pea and every apple. Watching seedlings transform from buoyant, little sprouts to bright and hearty juveniles and finally to a delicious treat is beyond satisfying. Suddenly, you see the role you play in this intricate ecology—coexisting with plants to both your and their benefit. You are a part of the garden; the garden is part of you. I grow food with the hope that localized and shared understanding of our food systems will only make our communities stronger.