In an ever more unpredictable future, we’ll need all the intelligence at our disposal to unleash our greenhouses’ growing potential.
The sign over the once boarded-up glass doors of our old supermarket read with intent: GrowSilience Community Launch – learn how YOUR greenhouse will help stock THIS place again. All welcome!
The store had stuttered on, shelves half-full of fresh produce one week, then empty the next, ping, pong, before finally closing several years ago when climate breakdown snapped global food supply chains. Our own growers are still racing to keep up, despite the switch from livestock to plant-based farming.
I wheeled my e-bike across the cracked, weedy car park as hot, mist-like rain billowed fitfully from low July clouds, the sky heavy and pale, like old milk; another atmospheric river flowing over us for a sunless fortnight. This weather – hot and claggy despite a hiding sun – made our crops as sluggish as we were. The next slug epidemic loomed.
My neighbours shuffled into the shuttered entrance, fanning themselves to keep cool, a mixture of wariness, curiosity and hope across their faces. Still-capped allotment stalwarts rubbed shoulders with youthful faces cradling toddlers and clutching notebooks. Kids danced in never-drying puddles.
Cally welcomed us at the door, cradling her tablet like an old seed catalogue. Behind her, the supermarket’s dusty aisles gaped wide, the last trays of Peruvian asparagus and New Zealand apples long gone. She cleared her throat. ‘Thank you all so much for coming tonight. I hope it’ll be worth your time. Let’s dig right in!
‘We’re here to launch an app, which I know always raises a groan – see, I told you! – but GrowSilience isn’t just another app. It’s a guide and a plan and it’s about people – about all of us here tonight. It’s about all of us harnessing technology together, to make us all smarter and more collaborative as gardeners, especially those of us with greenhouses. It’s about growing our own resilience to this weird, changing world we’re in – and hands up if you don’t get the clue in the name.’
Chuckles rippled through the gathering; no hands went up.
The large screen flickered to life. ‘Using the new GrowDrones, we’ve mapped every garden, balcony, verge and green space in the neighbourhood – any space that’s got food-growing potential. But get this,’ Cally lifted her finger, ‘we can also work out, garden by garden, what crops are struggling, why that might be, and where they might do better given our wibbly-wobbly weather. The artificial intelligence behind GrowSilience is able to see a bigger picture than any of us ever could. You can probably spot your garden on the map, but can you see what’s missing?’
My hand shot up: ‘Our greenhouses?’ Cally winked, tapping her tablet. Random shapes began to pulse on the screen. ‘Yes, greenhouses,’ Cally said, smiling. ‘Big ones, small ones, shared and private ones, community ones, those on walls, on balconies – every one that the GrowDrones could see. Can you spot yours?’
Chatter energised the humid meeting. My own greenhouse pulsing on the map reminded me that despite the muffled sun, my blight-busting tomatoes were thriving.
‘There they all are – each and every greenhouse in this neighbourhood. That’s mine, a lean-to on my shared house.’ Cally pointed to a long thin pulse of green. ‘Together, these are what will help feed us when the rain’s heavy and endless, if frost strikes into summer, when drought hits – or like now, when we’re stuck under this river in the sky. Local food for local people, grown locally – by all of us, gardening together.’
I watched Mr Clarke frown. ‘It’s all very fancy this stuff, lass, but half of them greenhouses aren’t even being used. One next door to me is in full shade. And they’re not going to stop the storms, or the heatwaves, are they? Not everyone’s got the time for a re-run of Dig for Victory – it’s a different world now.’
Low groans were Cally’s cue.
‘Very different, for sure, but look at this.’ Cally tapped her tablet and the screen, still showing our greenhouses, was overlaid with a mosaic of different areas shaded green, orange or red. We all frowned. ‘The app has mapped exactly where our greenhouses are right now. By analysing existing weather data, our local topography, and the detailed assessment by the GrowDrones – and we really appreciate everyone being cool with them buzzing overhead while we’ve been mapping stuff – we’ve been able to pinpoint where they would have the best chance of growing different crops successfully.’
‘The green areas are best, the red the worst?’ I guessed. Mr Clarke’s frown had gone now – he was mulling the idea along with everyone else. I did a mental air punch seeing my greenhouse was in a green zone.
‘You got it!’ said Cally. ‘Green means greenhouses are go in those zones. It’s where we think the most food crops – not forgetting flowers – can be grown. The green zones are where there’s maximum sunlight all year, and good soil; where there are no frost pockets, or any risk of flash flooding if we’re hit by another supercell storm – and we can make them accessible to all.
‘If we can gather all our structures together – if they’ll stand being moved – it’ll make it easier for the volunteer guardians to fling the duvets over them if hail’s on the way – and GrowSilience will be on weather patrol 24/7. Watering, harvesting and maintenance will be easier, too. You can see the allotment field is showing as perfect for a full-on greenhousing. And just look at all those walls pulsing green.’
‘But what about those of us in the red zone? Are we of no use?’ Maria was distraught. Cally got her to point out her greenhouse on the screen, which flipped to a drone’s-eye view of her long and wide back garden.
‘The mapping shows that Maria’s lovely big greenhouse actually gets quite a lot of shade, which is a blessing when it’s hot, but not when it’s dark and damp like now. So the app is suggesting – and this is only a suggestion, Maria, you don’t have to follow it – that a much better place for your greenhouse would be…’ A tap of Cally’s tablet magically moved Maria’s greenhouse from the red to the green zone at the bottom of her garden, an open, sunny spot.
‘I do know it’s better down there,’ said Maria. ‘I just don’t know how I’d actually move it.’
‘Carefully, pane by pane, I reckon,’ chuckled Mr Clarke. ‘That greenhouse has been in your family for yonks. It’s a beauty, top quality.’
‘App to the rescue again!’ declared Cally. ‘We’ve already formed a small team of volunteers willing to help dismantle, relocate and reassemble, repair, or expand anybody’s greenhouse, if it’s feasible. Isn’t that right, Greg? Where are you? Come on, stand up.’
‘Greenhouse Greg – and his movers and fixers – at your service.’ Tattoos hugged biceps as Greg bowed to applause. ‘I get him first!’ cried Maria above roars of laughter. Mr Clarke was in stitches.
‘What about those of us without a greenhouse?’ My brother fired the killer question, making Cally smile. ‘For you, it just gets better. We’ve mapped the potential for each garden that doesn’t already have a greenhouse, and where the best spot for it is. You can use GrowSilience to apply for a grant towards either the cost of a new one, or a pre-loved one that our lovely Greg’s team will recondition for you. That will create local jobs for local people, who together will be growing super-local organic food.’
‘I’ve a shedful of spare glass you’re welcome to, lads – or lasses. Just come round and get it,’ said Mr Clarke, smiling.
‘Or,’ Cally added, ‘you could list it on the exchange section in the app. It’ll link up anyone looking for spares for repairs with people like you, Mr Clarke.’
Both his thumbs went up. ‘You’ve won us over, Cally, even grumpy old buggers like me, and Maria – she’s buzzing. My cap’s off to you,’ said Mr Clarke, amid an agreeable rumble. ‘But that sign over the door says our greenhouses are going to help fill up all these empty aisles. How the app – sorry, couldn’t resist – is that going to work?’
‘The whole focus of GrowSilience is to start putting fresh, as-local-as-it-gets, seasonal fruit and veg, along with herbs and flowers, back on these shelves. We won’t fill them straight away, but as we learn together how to grow crops more reliably in weather that we’ll never be able to count on again, we will get there.’
Cally held up her phone. ‘And this is where the magic happens. As we learn, the app will learn, too. We’ll teach it things, then it’ll guide and advise us. It can look over the horizon, and plan ahead, when we’re all busy doing what it can’t.’
‘You mean it can’t sow seeds, plant stuff, pull weeds or pick me my tomatoes?’ Mr Clarke winked. ‘Obviously not that intelligent after all.’ Laughter filled the store.
‘It’ll be our collective greenhouse mind,’ Cally said, on a roll. ‘It’ll help us to keep up, adapt and figure out how to feed ourselves while our growers are dealing with their own challenges. We’ll be the smartest, most resilient generation of gardeners ever!’ More applause.
‘This clever app can work out how much of each crop – greenhouse and outdoor – we need to grow in this area to feed those of us living here,’ explained Cally. ‘So it’ll set us targets, monitor progress, and then measure harvests. Over time it’ll learn and refine, guiding us to make better decisions on growing. And if we’re short on any type of crop, it’ll check neighbouring areas and local growers for any gluts, which we can bring in to top these shelves up, and vice versa. There’s still stuff for the AI to work out, but that, Mr Clarke, is how’ – Cally prayed, phone held between her palms – ‘it will work.’
A hush fell as we gazed at the empty shelves.
Mr Clarke held his phone aloft. ‘Right then, let’s do it and get this place open again. Where do I download this here GrowSilience?’
Text and images © John Walker
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