Every September, Yale opens its doors to a flood of incoming students, many of whom feel safe only when those doors swiftly close behind them. They hear through the grapevine—no relation to Enza’s grapevine—that New Haven is a dangerous place. When I came to New Haven a year ago, I found myself perplexed by this attitude. The ironclad gates and spike-topped fences created a physical barrier between classrooms and communities that had so much to offer one another. I craved a sense of belonging in this city, a city in which myself and 11,000 other students lived, but few called home. Then, a fortunate thing happened. I met Chris Randall.
For all of the prefrosh arriving on Yale’s campus for Bulldog Days today, a look at a different side of New Haven: its urban farmers and community gardeners, folks deeply invested in making the city a more liveable (and edible!) landscape.
