Gardeners fell in love, friendships blossomed and someone spiked the compost with opium poppy seeds.

I discovered the lush community garden in the summer holidays before Year 12.

Craving an escape from textbooks and the pressures of VCE, my best friend Lucy and I signed up for a two by two metre plot.

It became the perfect procrastination tool.

Why revise maths when you could sink your fingers into soil and hack away at weeds with a rusty hoe? And seriously, whose parents are going to nag their children to do homework when they are absorbed in gardening?

Loyal gardeners had spent years transforming a former bowling green in St Kilda into an inner-city oasis called Veg Out.

They came from all walks of life, and languished on a waiting list before securing a coveted plot.

There were migrants who recreated the gardens of the countries they had left behind by planting kohlrabi and chicory, couples living in cramped apartments who wanted to connect with nature and green thumbs seeking new friends.

Lenny was among them and produced an impressive crop of basil every year.

The Italian migrant had worked out the secret to a thriving garden – encasing it in a net to ward off the cabbage moths.

Throughout summer, a palm reader watered her lettuce in high heels while a man with sad eyes lovingly staked his tomatoes.

Then there was a man we called Mr Oxalis, a lanky 30-year-old who spoke endlessly about the weed oxalis. He taught me about its intricate root structures, and how I needed to grab it by the runners.

As inner-city living becomes denser, and more people live in apartments with no green space, community gardens have thrived.

In gentrified suburbs such as St Kilda, where the community sometimes feels fractured, places like this have helped people stay connected.

Actor Rob Taylor, who is the star of Netflix hit Longmire, is the garden's long-standing president. When he's not playing a sheriff in the US crime drama, Rob can be found strolling down the tanbark paths in Blundstones, with a handful of weeds in his hands.

This is where he feels at home.

Actor Rob Taylor, who stars in Longmire, likes to spend his downtime gardening.

When he is working in the US, Rob is constantly stopped in the street by fans of the TV show, which is now in its sixth season. But at Veg Out, the down-to-earth actor enjoys the anonymity.

"I couldn't do this in America," he says. "Here I'm just Rob in the vegie patch."

He has been involved in the community garden since its inception 18 years ago and says there is nothing else like it in the world.

"It is not even about vegetables. It is about getting people together and spending time together, all different types of people. It is important and it is relevant."

At least two married couples met in the community garden, bonding over their love of gardening. Many lifelong friendships have also been formed.

My friend and I had numerous fights about the artistic direction of our plot. We spent hours arguing about where the pansies should be planted, what colour the fence should be painted and when to pick the tomatoes. Although these disputes sometimes tested our friendship, we decided it was better to garden with a companion, than alone.

We never had much success when it came to growing things, but that didn't matter.

Our tomatoes never seemed to ripen, so we boiled them with sugar and spices and turned them into green tomato chutney. We managed to grow broccoli once, and proudly posed with the vegetable in a photo after discarding its insect ravaged leaves.

To our delight, pink and orange poppies sprung up in our patch. But someone chopped the heads off them, perhaps to make opium-infused tea.

Breaking the rules was no laughing matter. Commercial fertiliser was banned and plot holders had to attend regular working bees.

The compost heaps were a neighbourhood meeting point where cafe owners from nearby Acland Street dropped off their used coffee grounds and vegetable scraps and chatted to gardeners.

A number of thieves operated within the tranquil community garden.

It's not known if the produce pilferers walked in off the street, or were fellow gardeners. One season our eggplant crop mysteriously disappeared and someone stole our pink flamingo garden ornament. Some plot holders took matters into their hands and placed warning signs among their cabbages. One read "karma: what goes around comes around".

Eventually the lure of cheap share houses and warehouse parties in the northern suburbs pulled us away from Veg Out.

Weekly visits turned into monthly ones and tending to the plot became a chore rather than something pleasurable. In no time at all we had abused the rules, which states that every plot must be maintained. The garden's committee includes a plot monitor who makes sure that every garden is up to scratch.

As we bar hopped down Brunswick Street, weeds strangled our lettuces, tomatoes shrivelled on their vines and spiders began nesting in our chilli bush. It was time to give up our plot and move on to greener pastures.

I'm now in my late 20s and have just bought my first home but there's no space for a vegetable garden in my apartment.

I've contacted my local community garden and have been put on a waiting list for a new plot.

I can't wait to start again.