Trevor's Garden

We have a piece of land behind my studio that goes almost to the levee. Some years ago a friend built large planter boxes to grow flowers for drying. They have long been unplanted, and we have only attempted from time to time to keep the growth of weeds under some control .

Our friends have often heard us talk about Trevor, our "tenant" who lives in a fenced part of our yard that borders this land. He is a Vietnam vet who has made his home in our yard for almost 20 years. We have become friends and he and I have occasional conversations which tend to be short as he quickly becomes delusional. I have grown fond of him.

Over the years I learned that he had been very involved in the Homeless Garden Project; he chose the job of tending the compost because he could be alone and near all of the gardening books which he loved to read. The Project was forced to relocate and he refused to go to the new site.

Two years ago we planted our onion seeds from Italy in one of the boxes. Trevor added some other onions, some tomatoes, bell peppers, and numerous avocados that he sprouted. A white rose bush appeared and other flowers followed. I watered when I was here, but he also would fill a large water bottle repeatedly in the river and carry it up to his plants.

Last year we provided him with water and a hose. And his garden grew! He has collected beautiful pieces of driftwood to cradle many of his new plants and is now making sculptures with logs and sticks. He only pulls weeds when he needs the piece of earth it occupies. He puts plants outside of the boxes and hides them under others. The result is a beautiful chaos with graceful shapes rising above the greenery. It is color- full with flowers. When I went out to take photos he was in his "house"and began to sing but did not come out.

His space is about six feet by fifteen feet and under a very large pine tree. I haven't been inside for a long time since we closed off the access to our yard, but he has decorated it with shelves and books, plants and beautiful pieces of wood. He constructed a low roof with a tarp. He loves a little gray neighborhood cat that he named October Mouse. He said she sleeps under his beard. He once showed me the scratches on his fence that he watched a racoon make as it climbed. He loves the crows that gather in the tree. He would throw tennis balls that he found into our yard for our dog, Fred. He gives me little gifts from time to time- most recently a blooming proteus plant- at other times a jar of organic honey and a new Pizza My Heart t-shirt. He tried often to give me an avocado to plant. When I said that we had no room for an avocado tree and what could I do with it. He answered, "I don't know. Talk to it!"

He seems to like his life and, even though he does have money, would not choose four walls and a roof. At times, though, paranoia consumes him and he suffers deeply. Often we can hear him ranting and angry. He is an interesting, complex and terribly scarred man.