Mud, Sweat and Tears: The Dirty Truth of Collective Gardens

After three years of collective community gardening, I ran across a bit of history. Apparently the early Pilgrim settlers in North America attempted a collective approach to raising food. What they found was that a few workers did all the work, yet everyone expected a full share of the harvest. Kind of like the Little Red Hen story. I haven't documented this factoid, though I was surprised that I found it in a children's book by, of all people, Rush Limbaugh (Rush Revere and the Brave Pilgrims). Whether it's true is beside the point because it certainly resonates with my experience. If I explained our garden to 100 people who are able-bodied and have enough spare time to watch 2+ hours of Netflix every day, about 75 would like the idea. Of those, 25 would say they want to check it out. Seven actually would. And 1-2 of those people would help at the garden more than once. This is not me venting. I am pointing out the reality of collective community gardening, based on my experience. A few theories have evolved for me: 1) Gardening sounds relaxing, but it's actually gritty, sweaty, physical labor; 2) produce from the store is cheap (and organic produce is more convenient even if more costly); 3) a lot of people don't cook or are intimidated by unfamiliar vegetables; 4) exercise is easier in a controlled, predictable environment like the gym. Theories aside, I've noticed that those 1-2 people who stick around tend to be tenacious (aka bull-headed, stubborn) food connoisseurs, who push themselves to succeed in other aspects of their lives. None of these observations are to give myself credit or to judge the 99%. I realize that better garden models and leadership styles exist. But when sheer determination, some stamina and a few good friends is what I've got to work with, I'll put up with the mud, sweat and tears so that I can take home my two hundred pounds of free time in a bag.