First impressions, Part 1

Today was the first day I met my plot. It was gorgeous weather, I had just cycled there for 30 minutes. Nerves were running high: would I like it? Would it like me?

I never knew that surburbia is so close in Portland. Rows of brightly-painted, lawn-manicured, exactly-aligned houses. Weird. A basketball court, full of teenagers trying to break the concentration of their opposition by bad-mouthing them. Cute in a weird way.

The community garden is surrounded by fence and artsy gates, both in bright steel. Looks pristine. As I ride up, someone is getting ready to leave and eyes me suspiciously. An older man and what I assume is his daughter. The lock combination is the secret passcode, the magical 'open sesame'. I feel that the lock code is quite a responsibility for a young whippersnapper like me.

And then there it is - the plot.

Older man points out the envy of the garden, much mulched (and not his). Seem to be nice people. As he sees my obvious despair at the amount of weeds he suggests that there are tools in the shed if I want to get started.

I start digging...