The lot had been empty for a decade. Broken glass, tire ruts, the usual. The city wasn't going to do anything with it, so a few of us did.

We started with one raised bed of vegetables. Then somebody put in milkweed, and the monarchs found it, and suddenly the whole thing became about habitat as much as food. Now it's a quarter-acre — native beds, a small pond, a hedgerow along the back.

It belongs to the block now. Kids log species after school. Neighbors who never talked before argue about who's watering. That's the part nobody tells you about a wildlife garden — it grows people too.