Near Toronto’s Rosedale subway station, a non-descript walkway and set of  concrete steps lead to a secret ravine that is a green oasis for local residents. The ravine is a regular walking route for my mom Sheila, who lives nearby in seniors apartments on Yonge Street.

Lately, Mom lamented the loss of her gardens in Don Mills.  She had lovingly tended three guerilla gardens there in a public park near Norman Ingram school — two around trees dedicated to here parents, and one in an old hollow log closer to her condo.

So as my entry into guerilla gardening, I decided to give Mom her own little garden in the ravine.

I had obtained a piece of hollow cedar log from  my inlaws’ cottage — it would recreate Mom’s favourite “log” garden in Don Mills and act as a centrepoint for the new garden.  I hauled the piece of cedar, along with a spade, a hand trowel, a plastic milk jug full of water, and some spring pansies — five for ten bucks at Sobeys — over to the new site.

A gardening SWAT mission

I found a nice spot on the landing of the ravine steps, with good sun exposure. And like a good guerilla gardener on a horticultural SWAT mission, I started digging vigorously, hoping to get the job done before having to explain myself to anyone.

I dug down a circle wider than the log diameter, then placed the cedar log inside, nestled into the soil. Using the hand trowel, I added soil to the log’s hollow area, and planted a yellow pansy there. As I moved on to work the soil in front of the log, I had my first visitor.

“Oh that is nice,” exclaimed an older woman coming down the steps. “We need more flowers here.”

“It’s for my Mom,” I replied, going for the sympathy vote. I realized that I was working up quite a sweat down my back between my vigorous digging and undercurrent of guilt at my illegal gardening activity. “This is one of her favourite walks.”

“Well thanks for brightening up the space,” the woman said, continuing on her way.

I got down to the final step of planting — by alternating purple and white pansies in front of the log. With the hand trowel, I dug spaces for each pansy and worked the soil around and on top of them.

So pretty

I was hustling to complete my entry into guerilla gardening when a second visitor came by. “Oh that is pretty,” said an older woman in a trim purple sports jacket. When I say older, I mean a few years older than me. She had her white hair tied back neatly and was smiling as she caught some afternoon sunshine while descending the steps.

“Thanks, it’s for my Mom,” I replied, figuring this line had already won over my first visitor. “She lost her garden when she moved downtown.”

“I can sympathize with that,” my visitor replied.  “I live in an apartment too. There’s a man who maintains a garden in a vacant spot next to our building. I tried to help him out but he is a bit of a control freak.  So I just leave him some plants from time to time and he fits them in.”

“Maybe you could find another spot,” I suggested.

She told me she wanted to grow some herbs near her building, to have a fresh source close at hand for cooking. She had seen some herbs for sale outside a local variety store, and would have a closer look.

Tiny Garden #2

I wished her well and took the final step of branding this tiny log garden. I inserted a stick with a small sign indicating this was “Tiny Garden #2.”  As Tiny Garden #1 existed only in my imagination, I thought my sign would indicate that this idea was trending.

I pushed the sign into the soft earth to complete the picture. I hoped this tiny garden would survive — and that my Mom would notice it next time she walked by!