Gardening Within an HOA

Even a small rental lawn, regulated by a homeowners association, can grow food and invite wildlife. Photos by Alexandra Dovel.

“Little boxes on the hillside,

Little boxes made of ticky-tacky,

Little boxes on the hillside,

Little boxes all the same…”

You may remember these lyrics from the theme song of a television show called Weeds, a mid-2000s satire of suburbia. Manicured lawns, beige-on-beige conformity, homes that looked like copy-paste jobs. It was funny because it was true. But the song actually dates back to 1962, written by folk singer Malvina Reynolds — a protest tune disguised as a jingle. And sixty years later, not much has changed in many middle-class housing developments.

But what if a front yard wasn’t just something to maintain, but a space with purpose? A place that offered food, habitat and seasonal beauty alongside curb appeal? That shift in perspective changed how we viewed our own yard. We stopped seeing it as something to manage and began treating it as something alive.

As owners of Bluebird Growers, a small horticulture-forward landscaping business in Northeast Florida, my husband Nick and I can implement this philosophy in others’ yards as well. We focus on sustainable, native and edible gardens — plantings that support both people and pollinators. We’ve helped homeowners rethink what a yard can be, but when it came to our own front yard at a home we rented, the project felt different. Without the freedom of ownership, we leaned on ingenuity. Could a small rental lawn, regulated by a homeowners association, grow food, invite wildlife and shift the way we lived? We decided to find out.

We live in St. Johns County, where lawns are often better regulated than natural ecosystems. Our neighborhood is quiet and tidy. Irrigation systems run on timers, hedges are trimmed to code and deviations tend to raise eyebrows. But beneath the order lies soil — and soil is full of possibility, especially in Florida’s generous growing zones.

We started small, expanding beds slowly. We improved the soil with mushroom compost, pine fines and alfalfa. Then came the plants: native pollinator magnets like salvia and coreopsis, mixed with herbs, greens and edible blooms, including parsley, fennel, lemon thyme, arugula, society garlic and chives. We tucked in papalo and roselle, grew pumpkins by accident and added fig and banana trees along the sunny side yard. Our choices reflect what thrives in Zone 9B’s subtropical climate: plants that can take the heat, bounce back after storms and give back more than they take.

That was just the start. The garden continues to evolve. It’s part design, part improvisation and completely alive.

There’s a misconception that ecological gardening is chaotic or high maintenance. In truth, it often asks less of you than a lawn. No pesticides or synthetic fertilizers. Less mowing, less watering. Just healthy soil, thoughtful plant selection and time.

This once plain patch of red mulch and boxwoods has become a living classroom. A reminder that you don’t need ideal conditions or acres of land to grow something worthwhile.

Because even in a row of little boxes, one yard will always find a way to misbehave.