On a bright, blustery morning a week ago Saturday, my dog Avery and I took the 20-minute walk from my house to Calkins Park. There, youth and adult soccer teams practice and play, a drum and bugle corps blows, bangs and marches, kids climb a playscape, neighbors walk a paved path around the fields and a hearty band of gardeners grow vegetables for themselves and others. For five years the Calkins Park Community Garden has occupied a sunny sloped shoulder here, knitting itself into the fabric of this busy green oasis tucked amid the compact neighborhoods and pavement of New London with 62 raised beds rented to a diverse mix of apartment dwellers and homeowners.

Waiting for me behind the six-foot fence around the garden — secured with a combination lock after repeated thefts — grew the last of this year’s harvest in my two plots. Kale, Brussels sprouts, arugula and leeks had thus far withstood the mild fall temperatures, giving me hope no killing frost would wipe them out before one last picking to share at my Thanksgiving meal with relatives. But just as the elementary-school stereotypes of the first Thanksgiving of the Pilgrims and the Wampanoags belie the difficulties and complexities of the characters and relationships represented at that feast, being part of a community garden is no visit to Eden.

Along with the rewards of getting to know our neighbors and savoring the lettuce, collard greens and zucchinis of our labors, we gardeners have had to contend with stolen vegetables — including bagfulls of green beans and tomatoes intended for a city food pantry. A young girl and her mother lovingly tended a pumpkin plant in one of the beds to earn a Girl Scout badge, only to have their beautiful jack-o-lantern-sized fruit disappear just before they were about to pluck it from the vine. There’s been vandalism to the fence and shed, theft of power equipment used to trim the grass and weeds, and this summer an unsettling encounter with a mentally unstable man who hollered aggressively at gardeners that the park belonged to him and they should get out. He persisted even after a brief visit by city police. There are more such examples, but the point is this: the “community” part of community gardening can be messy at times, and anyone thinking of joining or starting one in their own corner should go in with their eyes open.

That said, doing it anyway in spite of the periodic setbacks makes the effort all the more worthwhile for the gardeners and the entire community. At times, the core group of organizers and leaders have gotten temporarily discouraged, but have earned my admiration many times over for their willingness to forge ahead, figure out how to solve the latest problem and keep the good the garden is doing foremost in their minds. Just as that thanksgiving moment in 1621 transcended the gritty details of what happened before and after, the Calkins Park Community Garden exists and persists as a statement about what’s required for a healthy community. People need places to take care of themselves and others with nutritious fresh food, to build human connections and spend time in the outdoors paying attention to something other than cell phones and computer screens.

Cordalie Benoit, former president and now treasurer of the Connecticut Community Gardening Association, said the concept of renting space in public lands for residents to dig, plant and pick, dates back 100 years. It began taking hold in the 1980s as a blight reduction tool in urban communities. Today, chronically struggling cities like Detroit have some of the most active community gardens. In urban, suburban and rural towns alike, she said, people are drawn to community gardens as a way to learn about or share what they know about gardening, meet their neighbors, improve their diets and teach children about where their food comes from. Many schools now have gardens as outdoor classrooms.

“We are social animals. We do care about each other,” she said. “In Connecticut, I wouldn’t say there’s a garden in every town, but nearly so. New Haven alone has 60 or 70 community gardens.”

Dealing with thefts and other problems is a common but unfortunate part of the community garden landscape, she said. But just as private backyard gardeners can’t let their labors be undone by deer, insects and weather, anyone who sows seeds in a public plot has to accept some risks along with rewards.

“Gardening is always throwing the dice,” she said. “You just have to go into it with a spirit of good will and cooperation.”

Several of us in the Calkins garden raise vegetables in our small city-sized yards as well as in the park plots. We could engage our inner farmer entirely in isolation, but choose not to. We want to do some of our gardening in public simply to grow more and join in a positive activity with our neighbors, but also to speak through our actions about our aspirations for the city we call home. Trying to foster a healthier community by taking care of ourselves and sharing with others sometimes means running up against the unhealthy elements. Entirely avoiding all possibility of those interactions isn’t what living in a community is all about.

Judy Benson reports on environmental and health issues for The Day.

j.benson@theday.com

Twitter: @BensonJudy

More information:

Calkins Park Community Garden: www.calkinscommunitygarden.org

Other community gardens in New London: http://www.freshnewlondon.org/community-gardens/

Eastern Connecticut Community Gardens Association: http://getgrowingct.org/

Connecticut Community Gardening Association: http://www.ctcommunitygardening.org/