Jasper is a rough community for green thumbs.

On the natural side, 10 years of drought crack a baked earth, stressing even natural vegetation. Unpredictable weather means snow at any time, as killer frost creeps silently as often in April as August.

But we do ourselves no favours. First, a lost greenhouse. Now, opposition to a small community garden. Living in harmony off the land was always an ideal, but why add extra roadblocks?

There are arguments against increased gardening in the valley. Invasive species often find first root in small, cultivated gardens, which now has council and parks debating the return of pesticides to the area. Zoning issues are a rat’s nest of bureaucratic wrangling that causes even staunch greenophiles to recoil in fear, and sharing space in tight corners of public land will always be an issue in a National Park.

Frustration.

What have we lost when this way of thinking prevents us from the most basic act: agriculture. In a national park, we pride ourselves with an appreciation for nature. We understand seasonal changes, interpreting the curveball torque mountains place upon weather systems. While much of the nation think of only sun and rain, we interpret snowpack, wind change and barometric drops. For many, survival depends on it. So why then, has growing a few herbs and vegetables on a very small plot of land become such a source of controversy? More than 80 individuals opposed the small community garden plot on Lion’s Park.

Perhaps the opposition is only saving us from ourselves?

My own indoor gardening efforts have proven disastrous. First, the manic depressive: A yellowing palm skulks shamefully in southern exposure in my living room. Partially malnourished, wondering what cruel fate brought it from balmy native lands to snow covered lawns, I suspect it has generated a great deal of resentment for me. Upon first sight in the discount bin at Walmart, I recognized a plant that would benefit from care and mountain views real estate. Rescued from big box chaos, I was sure it would grow plentifully.

But the palm is an ungrateful wretch and our battles are nearing an end. Pining for warmer climes has given way to pining for the fjords, as I now subject the plant to bouts of my guitar lessons in order to hasten the process. I believe I caught it eyeing the drop from my second floor balcony.

My second plant, an aeroplane plant, does nothing. After nearly ending its life with a watering frenzy early on, the plant shows no signs of response. It fears my gushing waterbottle, afraid to show any signs of growth. After nearly killing with kindness, it now appears incapable of love.

Perhaps I’ll let someone else take my garden plot.

Maybe I’ll get a dog instead.

DISCLAIMER: The Last Word is an opinion column. It is meant to provoke thought and debate. As such, any opinions written here are the writers own and do not reflect the viewpoint of any other Fitzhugh staff member or the directors of the Jasper Media Group Inc.