Guerilla gardens are never static. They live in a host’s head, and roam with the would-be gardener until they find the perfect spot.

-Mom? What’s a “gorilla garden”? Rachel said her dad planted a gorilla garden last night. Is he growing bananas? Or a jungle?

-It’s “guerrilla” garden, darling. It’s urban warfare. Some people decide that they know better than everybody else. They think they are good people, but they prey on unsuspecting landowners who they accuse implicitly of dereliction of duty. They plant flowers! Or vegetables! But not in their own backyard. Noooo!

You are not to play with little Rachel anymore.

-But Mom! That’s not fair. We didn’t do anything!

Once the host finds a spot, they stake out the place to find a suitable time to do the deed. They are outlaws, vigilantes of the vegetable kingdom. They move stealthily like ninjas!

-Never you mind, Missie. If her father is an outlaw, then she’s an outlaw.

Sometimes, they plan elaborate schemes. They enrol accomplices with soil and tools. They might decide to plant flowers to liven up a vacant lot or a vegetable garden to feed the hungry.

-Why are you so angry anyway? It’s not like they’re spray painting graffiti on your house!

-It’s just not done. Where would we be if people grew their own food? Or started enjoying living in poor neighbourhoods? It goes against Nature.

Every seed sows dissension and will hasten the revolution. Long live anarchy! Long live the Vegetable Kingdom!

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