Brookings resident Carl Kline is an ordained clergyman, part-time teacher and occasional blogger.

It’s becoming more and more obvious that in my hunger for home-grown tomatoes, I planted too many in my back yard garden. I’m sure my mind was filled with images of juicy tomato sandwiches, with a little salt and a bit too much mayonnaise, when I purchased the plants at Medary Acres and put them in the ground. Maybe I bought plants not out of need, but out of greed.

One significant problem is, some of the tomatoes I planted toward the rear of my garden plot are not getting enough sun. The branches shading them are too high and too thick for me to do anything about it. And that’s not the only problem. I also planted some cucumbers. (They just seem to go together in my mind). So now the cucumber vines are attacking the tomato cages and there are at least three examples where the tomatoes are being deprived of sun and space by cucumber vines. I doubt those plants will produce any tomatoes this season.

Last year I constructed a nice fence for the cucumbers. They had plenty of opportunity to climb higher and higher into the sunlight. Did they use it? No! Even with help, placing their grippers on the strings, they continued to prefer crawling on the ground. They obviously had a mind of their own and this year they are intent on taking over tomato cages. Why can’t they get along and share the space?

I was thinking something similar as I watched the birds at the bird feeder this morning. Two large blackbirds were hogging the space. Since both would tip the feeder even more precariously, one would feed on the ground while the other was on the feeder, then switch. I thought that was good that they could share, but there were a whole host of smaller birds in the bushes and on the clothes line nearby that were waiting and waiting till the larger birds had their fill. And it amazes me how the little ones always seem to share the space and seeds.

The robins are not always as nice. Some seem to need their own space. Even on the ground, they will threaten another robin who gets too close. I’ve not been able to discover whether it’s a characteristic of all robins or whether a few more aggressive ones are just having a bad day.

It does seem to be clear that we all need our space. Whether cucumbers and tomatoes, robins and sparrows, animals and humans, we all need our space to live and to thrive.

I’m afraid there are people like my garden cucumbers. They are offered space of their own but find the surroundings of another more attractive, with greater potential for growth, and so they diminish the life of another in their quest.

I’m afraid there are also people like the blackbirds and robins. They come and go as they please, oblivious to the little people waiting on them, and are quite aggressive in protecting their personal space.

When I was in high school, I had a speech teacher who encouraged me to write and enter an oratory contest. Somehow, wrapped up as I was in a life of partying and carousing, I did what he suggested and won the contest for my efforts. The theme of the oration was on the population explosion; so many people on the globe and diminishing livable space.

In the Middle East, Israelis and Palestinians are unable to share space. Russia and Ukraine are unable to share space. In the United Sates, we are unable to amicably share space with the many refugees and immigrants that approach our borders. We have difficulty finding space for the thousands of homeless who sleep on our sidewalks and in our parks. And as our human populations increase, space for the many and diverse creatures on our planet decreases.

It doesn’t have to be that way. We can live in harmony. One garden tomato has outgrown the cage and the cucumber plant has surrounded it. Both are thriving! Yesterday a cardinal and a sparrow were on the feeder together with the doves eating seeds on the ground. Tiny houses are being built around the country for the homeless, and refugees are being supported and integrated into our society by countless aid groups. Some are working tirelessly for peace in far off places and a recognition is growing that there is enough space for everyone’s need, just not enough for everyone’s greed.

Next year I’ll plant fewer tomato plants. And I remain committed to the belief that there’s enough space for all, should we temper our always striving for “more,” and recognize our inter-relationship to all of this amazing Creation.