Gardening next door

From family backyards to makeshift rental plots and pots, there has always been a garden growing just beyond my back door. Over the years, like many renters, I’ve loved and left many gardens behind – burying seeds into borrowed soil like a mystery gift for whomever followed. Since there has always been a garden, I came to believe there always would be.

A few years ago, I moved to a small townhouse in a western suburb of Adelaide, just off a main road leading into the city and under a busy flight path. Right on cue, expectantly awaiting my arrival was a garden bed out the back – though it could easily have doubled as a sandbox! While I worked to improve the soil before planting, I considered my options.

Living in a small space quickly teaches you that gardening is never a one-size-fits-all pursuit – you must adapt to circumstances. Pots have long been the renter’s go-to and even the most unlikely plants can perform well in containers. Root vegetables, like potatoes and beetroot, flowers, like dahlias, and even dwarf fruit trees, will thrive in pots.

With limited outdoor space, my garden followed me indoors. Here I could extend the growing season for tender herbs like basil and add a fresh crunch to meals with sprouted broccoli, mung beans and radishes growing on the windowsill. I looked out to the tiny verge at the front of my home and saw another opportunity – planting hardy perennials and Indigenous species to support local pollinators. I also explored the idea of joining a local community or allotment garden but found that there weren’t many suitable options. So I came up with an alternative: to ask my neighbours if I could grow food in their gardens.

My new neighbourhood was full of old houses on double blocks, the kind you don’t see much of anymore. With laneways running between them, I could ride my bike and scout out gardens that looked underused, with plenty of space and potential.

To begin, I wrote a simple letter introducing myself, explaining why I wanted to grow a garden and outlining how I imagined the arrangement might work. I was looking for around 25 square metres – not a hard rule, but a size that felt big enough to experiment in, without being overwhelming, especially since I wouldn’t be there every day. Also on the wishlist: at least six hours of full sun, a shared willingness to learn from each other and open communication should we ever need to adjust plans or realign our vision.

I dropped the notes into the letterboxes of the most promising places and waited. I sent out about five letters and two people responded. Meanwhile, I’d started a succession of seedlings, tending to them throughout autumn and winter as I waited to find somewhere to plant them. They included heirloom beefsteak tomatoes for saucing, eggplants for stuffing and zucchini for salads. I was prepared to donate them to friends if needed, and a few eventually grew leggy, eager to get growing in the ground.

I thought I’d found the perfect patch but when the owners became uncontactable, I posted in my local Facebook community group. These groups are common and fantastic for swapping vegies, sharing tools or appliances or finding second-hand furniture. Try searching your suburb name or postcode to see if there’s one set up for your neighbourhood. In hindsight, social media proved to be a much more efficient way to reach my community. It’s also a great option if you’re not feeling confident about dropping off letters or speaking directly with neighbours. People can share your message with friends and suddenly you’re reaching hundreds instead of just a handful. I ended up receiving offers from across Adelaide, including one from Ash, who lived in a rental just five minutes down the road – one of the kindest market gardeners-turned-microgreen farmers in Adelaide.

When I first met Ash in early spring, the weeds were lush after a long period of fallow and rest. The garden was full of established olive trees, stone fruit and grapevines along the fence, with beautiful growing spaces bordered neatly by iconic Italian cement paths. Ash had been renting the place for a few years and had already set up rows and irrigation for market gardening.

Ash and I agreed on specific gardening days, but there was always an open welcome for last-minute visits. The first task was to rejuvenate the soil, ready for planting before summer. I added aged cow manure, compost and a granular organic fertiliser. While I let the soil sit for a few weeks, I made a detailed plan for growing. By the end of summer, I had grown an entire garden from seed, with many lessons learned from this beautiful space and so many heirloom varieties tried and tested. After gardening there for a few seasons, it was time to hand back my fostered patch to Ash as the ongoing caretaker.

Reaching out to strangers isn’t something that has ever come naturally to me, but when it comes to finding space to grow food for myself and my community, it’s worth the stretch. I’ve learned to push past the nerves, knock on doors and have the conversations that might open something up. While easier said than done, stepping outside your comfort zone can lead to the sweetest, juiciest opportunities.

So do yourself a favour! If you want to garden and grow delicious food but don’t have space, ask your neighbour if you can venture down the garden path to grow food in their backyard.