Growing Food Instead of Lawns in California Front Yards

Front yards transformed to tiny crop farms in Los Angeles provide vegetables to dozens of families and use a fraction of the water needed by grass.

By Cara Buckley Photographs by Alisha Jucevic
New York Times
Updated Nov. 6, 2024

On a corner lot in Leimert Park in dusty South Los Angeles, not far from Obama and Crenshaw Boulevards, sits a curiosity that’s wildly different from all the neighboring grassy yards. Abundant and lush, it looks like a mash-up between a country idyll and something dreamed up by Dr. Seuss.

Tangles of grapes and blackberries grow in clusters along a trellis. Leafy rows of basil, sweet potatoes and mesclun spring from raised garden troughs. Most striking are corridors of elevated planters stacked four high, like multilevel bunk beds, filled with kale, cabbage, arugula, various lettuces, eggplants, tatsoi and collard greens.

Run by a gardening wizard named Jamiah Hargins, this wee farm in the front yard of his bungalow provides fresh produce for 45 nearby families, all while using a tiny fraction of the water required by a lawn.

At just 2,500 square feet, this farm forms the heart of Mr. Hargins’s nonprofit, Crop Swap LA, which transforms yards and unused spaces into microfarms. It runs three front yard farms that provide organic fruits and vegetables each week to 80 families, all living in a one-mile radius, and often with food insecurity. Rooted in the empowering idea that people can grow their own food, Crop Swap LA has caught on, with a wait list of 300 residents wanting to convert their yards into microfarms.

The project began inadvertently in 2018, when Mr. Hargins, who grew up on military bases and worked as an options trader and headhunter, decided to grow his own food. He didn’t have much experience, but he had a strong incentive. He wanted fresh produce for his baby daughter, and there weren’t great options around.

Mr. Hargins hammered together a garden bed out of old wood, filled it with soil, and began experimenting. He spent long hours outside, at daybreak and at night, watching how seedlings and plantings responded to growing in different parts of the yard. “He just took time to pay attention,” said his wife, Ginnia Hargins.

Complete story here.