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Last fall, I moved into a Brooklyn apartment with a balcony and made a promise to myself that I\u2019d learn how to garden. I poured over heirloom seeds online<\/a> and set one reasonable-seeming goal: to hold a single vegetable in my hand that I\u2019d grown from a seed.<\/p>\n Spring rolled around. When I opened the seed packets I\u2019d confidently ordered months earlier, most of them were alarmingly tiny. Would a single extra drop of water kill this? <\/em> I wondered. But after googling things like \u201coverwatering vs under-watering\u201d and reading a bunch of gardening tips that I immediately forgot, I planted my seeds in starter trays<\/a> by my living room window. If everything went according to plan, they\u2019d get big enough to go outside just as the evening temperatures stopped dipping low enough to kill them. <\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not sure this is going to work,\u201d I told a friend who had a plot at a nearby community garden. \u201cSeeds want to grow,\u201d she replied. It was very reassuring, and sure enough, within days, little sprouts were shooting up. <\/p>\n From then on, the state of my seeds was the first thing I checked every morning. If I went away for the weekend, I\u2019d drop my bag as soon as I returned and head straight for them with a pitcher of water. I was sitting on my apartment floor repotting when the April 5th earthquake<\/a> hit New York City; I had to wipe the dirt off my hands before checking my phone to figure out what was going on.<\/p>\n By mid-April, however, things seemed a bit bleak. My plants had flatlined. They didn\u2019t seem big enough to move outdoors, but I followed a planting schedule based on the last frost<\/a> anyway. It was nice to have a reason to go outside so early, and gardening made me more attuned to the weather. Wind had been a minor inconvenience until plants with thin stalks that I very much wanted to survive were in its path. Temperature wasn\u2019t something I accessed first through my phone\u2019s weather app; instead, I felt it each morning when I opened the balcony door. <\/p>\n One day, carrying pitcher after pitcher of water from the kitchen sink, I also realized that I didn\u2019t usually spend much time as a beginner. It felt good to experience the frustrations and delights of someone who\u2019s just starting out. When I planted beans, I was reminded of how little I knew. I\u2019d ordered Hidatsa Shield Beans<\/a> mostly because they\u2019re so beautiful. When it was time to sow them, I was confused: I plant a bean and it\u2026multiplies into many beans? Grows into some sort of bean bush?<\/em> But instead of turning to the internet for an instant answer, I decided to let myself be surprised.<\/p>\n Spring turned to summer. I picked a few dozen snap peas before the plants died of what I believe was heatstroke. I was on track to grow juicy heirloom tomatoes when they got some sort of brown rot that can be caused by over-watering, under-watering, too much fertilizer, not enough fertilizer, or maybe the pressure of being my most desired plant. The cucumbers that started out strong grew bulbous and tasted\u2026off. I would not be 2024\u2019s answer to a young Martha Stewart pulling up handfuls of vegetables in dirt-stained jeans and a cream cable-knit sweater<\/a>, but I was still having a good time. <\/p>\n Despite some setbacks and a teeny yield, I met my goal and even surpassed it. I loved clipping fresh rosemary and chives from their pots. I made a few balcony-to-table kale salads. My favorite plant was the ground cherries<\/a> grown from a seed that first arrived in North America with a Russian immigrant and had been passed down through generations of women. Once you peel off the papery husk, it tastes like sugary cereal from the nineties (in a good way). Plus, there were the non-plant gains, like watching bees buzzing around my balcony and chatting with neighbors about what we were trying to grow.<\/p>\n I recently texted a friend who has been gardening for years in California. \u201cThe beginner is shocked when a plant grows from a seed; the seasoned gardener expects it,\u201d I wrote. He answered: \u201cI think every gardener is delighted by what they grow.\u201d It\u2019s nice to know that excitement doesn\u2019t diminish as you get more experience. <\/p>\n This first summer season, I made plenty of mistakes, but I didn\u2019t let that get in the way of enjoying the process. Even though it was low stakes, every single thing that grew made me giddy. When something didn\u2019t work out, I learned what I could or blamed the heat, which is easy when it\u2019s August in Brooklyn. I\u2019m still a bit heartbroken about those tomatoes, but overall, the whole gardening experience was a nice reminder that you don\u2019t have to be particularly good at something to have fun doing it. I\u2019m already making plans for next year. I also have a new goal: grow at least one big, juicy heirloom tomato.<\/p>\n Do you garden? What do you love growing? What tips do you have? <\/strong><\/p>\n P.S. 14 readers share their gorgeous gardens<\/a>, and a San Francisco home with a beautiful garden<\/a>.<\/p>\n (Photos by the author.)<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/cupofjo.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/09\/starterseeds-scaled.jpg\")
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