As we got ready to leave though, a flood – now just another page in the past year’s catalogue of biblical downpours and named storms – burst the banks of the Cherwell and made navigation beyond Aynho Weir dangerous. Waiting for the floodwaters to recede brought to mind the precariousness of our waterborne life on a changing planet. Seasonal flooding has shaped the Cherwell Valley since the last Ice Age, but human-induced climate heating has supercharged preexisting weather patterns and made floods more common and severe. While boaters sometimes joke that a floating home is the best place to be during a flood, I realised that the weather was dictating my life in a much more immediate way than I’d ever experienced on land.
This caused a spike in what I can only describe as ‘Climate Anxiety’: the sense of ‘distress about climate change and its impacts on the landscape and human existence’. If my life in this temperate country was being disrupted now, what about more extreme climates around the world, and what about the future for all of us? According to a study in the journal of environmental psychology, floods are the most common trigger for this little-understood psychological malaise, simply because they’re the most common weather-related disaster impacting people worldwide.
I hung around Banbury, unsure of my next move. I didn’t know anyone here, and despite growing up a 20-minute train ride away in Oxford, had no idea what the town had to offer. While filling up on water at the services one day, I noticed a sliver of green beyond the gloomy space underneath the noisy A-road overpass, just south of Lock 29. Looking closer, I discovered a lovingly tended edible garden comprised of hexagonal raised planters, each one maintained and painted by local charities and community groups. The verdant space stood out from its urban surroundings – an oasis of calm amid the roaring traffic. I later learned that this was Bridge Street Community Garden, a place where people and nature could coexist and thrive, established on an old mechanic’s yard.
I reached out to Garden Officer Tila Rodriguez-Past, whose inspiration for urban greening and afforestation stems from her childhood on the fringes of a nature reserve in southern Mexico. She invited me to come along to the Monday volunteering sessions, and despite having no gardening experience I immediately felt at home as I was greeted by the diverse and friendly volunteers. After a coffee under the gazebo I teamed up with another volunteer to pull out a buddleia that had taken over one of the raised beds, then repaired damage done to the wooden structure by the plant’s roots with an impact driver.
Something about working with your hands in a voluntary setting ignites unguarded discussions, and I spoke at length with other volunteers about Banbury, boating, nature, and—fittingly—climate anxiety. I soon realised that this was by design: Tila ensures equal focus is paid to nurturing the volunteers as to the garden itself. “You’re part of the ecosystem too,” she reminded the group as we stopped for another break under the gazebo. I had the tangible sense that I was acquiring a social network, and as the weeks and months went by, this evolved into a group of friends.
Over time, I began writing the newsletter for Banbury Community Action Group (BCAG), the umbrella organisation under which the Community Garden falls. This voluntary writing position has put me in contact with a wide range of people and showed me that Banbury boasts a dedicated community of volunteers working to make their town greener and better for everyone. I no longer want to leave, and see the flood that grounded me here in 2024 in a more positive light.
In the Post-Pandemic age, community is being touted as a cure-all against isolation, ageing and even the climate crisis – with the caveat that, like any relationship, it takes work. Of course, grassroots volunteering alone won’t prevent climate breakdown; it must be matched by major policy shifts in government and global cooperation. However, an unstable political situation, in which powerful actors are setting out to bewilder an increasingly online population, make it more important than ever to step outside and connect with the community around you.
Just as biodiverse ecosystems are better equipped at dealing with floods or droughts, a healthy and resilient community can adapt and thrive under the pressures of a changing climate. In an age of division and ecological crisis, coming together as a community isn’t just an act of solidarity—it’s an act of survival.
If you’d like to hear more from Joe, sign up to his newsletter for Banbury CAG here: banburycag.us10.list-manage.com/subscribe