A year of roof gardens in a cold city

When the city offered subsidies for rooftop gardens, sixty-one buildings applied. A year later, nineteen still had something growing. I spent the season visiting all of them.

The failures had a pattern. Beds were too shallow, so roots froze. Irrigation was manual, and busy tenants forgot. Wind scoured the soil from the top floors. Most of all, no one was in charge, and a shared garden without a keeper is a rumour.

The three habits of survivors

The gardens that lasted all had a named person who watered, a windbreak made of whatever was around, and a calendar of small events that gave neighbours a reason to climb the stairs. The plants mattered less than the schedule.