We got kicked out of a neighborhood community garden after two seasons. It had a two-year waitlist. Once I saw a woman taking notes on plots while frowning. HOA pettiness, gives a certain kind of white person ample time and they turn themselves into cops, every time. Sure, we had a few warnings. One was that we neglected to place burlap over dormant earth, to blanket the crassness of earth where plants failed to sprout. We noticed how most of the plots looked like poodles, overheard gardeners compare the superiority of sunlight in the plot versus their yards at home. The week after we received our eviction notice, we went back by bicycle. Under moonlight, we un-sowed, uprooted our failures into grocery bags filled with earth, brought home our eggplant and thyme, squashes too, though they didn’t survive. Not everything wants to. I peed on the plot after we left, though years later I learned urine has beneficial properties. We have our garden now—partial sun, partial shade. Slugs tricked into mason jars, a trap of warm beer. The perennials return; their name accurately means through the years. We don’t use burlap. There are pests and weeds. Still, we reap. We bring the flowers in weekly.

Rhienna Renée Guedry (she/they) is a writer, illustrator, and producer whose favorite geographic locations all have something to do with their proximity to water. A two-time Pushcart Prize nominee and 2022 Tin House Workshop alum, her work has appeared in Muzzle, Maudlin House, Gigantic Sequins, and elsewhere. Her debut chapbook Root Rot is available from Cooper Dillon Books. Rhienna is currently working on her first novel. Find out more about her projects at rhienna.com.