My First Garden: What I Learned the Hard Way

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Well hey there, darlin’—
Pull up a chair and grab yourself a glass of iced tea, because today I’m fixin’ to tell you all about my very first garden—the one that taught me more than a few lessons the hard way. Whether you’ve got a backyard or just a little rooftop nook, this one’s for every soul with dirt under their nails and a dream in their heart.

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Project Origin & Inspiration

I never set out to become a rooftop gardener. But after one too many trips to the grocery store for limp lettuce and tasteless tomatoes, I knew it was time for a change. I remembered summers spent barefoot in my Grandma June’s garden, pulling carrots and singing to the squash. Her garden wasn’t just a patch of earth—it was therapy, church, and magic all rolled into one.

So I rolled up my sleeves, grabbed a few pots and some good soil, and started planting on the flat concrete roof above my first apartment. No land? No problem. I was determined to grow something—even if I had to do it sky-high.

Planning & Prepping

Planning a garden in the city is like designing a front porch swing—you want it sturdy, sweet, and suited for stories. I sketched out a rough layout using chalk, noting where the sun hit hardest and which spots stayed shady. Raised beds weren’t in the cards, so I opted for large buckets and upcycled crates instead. My southern belle blueprint was in motion.

Gathering Materials

Now sugar, if you’re anything like me, you love a good rummage sale. I gathered up terra cotta pots, plastic containers, and even an old bathtub (yes, ma’am!) to plant in. I hit the local nursery like it was the church bake sale—prepared and excited.
Here’s my starter list:

Containers of all shapes and sizes
Quality potting mix
Compost (store-bought or homemade)
Seed packets: tomatoes, basil, peppers, lettuce
Garden gloves, hand trowel, watering can

Planting & Growing

Planting that first seed felt like writing a love letter to my younger self. I spaced out my plant babies like they were cousins at a family reunion—close enough to mingle, but with enough room to grow. I read every seed packet like it held the secret to the universe (spoiler alert: it kinda does).

Mistakes? Oh honey, I made ‘em. I overwatered, underwatered, and once I even mistook a weed for a bean sprout. But I learned, one leaf at a time.

Nurturing & Harvesting

The first time I saw a tomato turn red on the vine, I nearly cried into my sweet tea. I tended that little rooftop plot like it was a Tomato pie in the oven—checking daily, turning pots, whispering encouragement. My neighbors started noticing, asking for tips, even dropping off empty jars “just in case you start canning.”

By midsummer, I had enough basil for pesto, enough tomatoes for sandwiches, and enough joy to last me through winter.

Personal Moments Worth Remembering

There was the time a neighbor brought over lemonade and we ended up having a full-blown picnic beside the zucchini. Or when a bird nested in my hanging strawberry basket, and I called her “Beulah” like she was family.

The garden wasn’t just food—it became my healing place, my reminder that even on the hardest concrete, life can bloom.

Signing Off

So if you’re staring out at a patch of concrete wondering if anything beautiful can grow there—trust me, it can. All it takes is a little dirt, a lot of heart, and maybe a few wrong turns along the way.

Happy planting, Sug.

Love, Granny B ❤️