Horticulture is a Fagergren family tradition. But until now- like any good rebellious kid- I had no interest in it. On a quarterly basis my mother, aunt, and grandparents would drag me to the Botanical Gardens. I'd trail behind as they walked the beds pointing at every (no really, every) plant, competing to see who could recite the scientific name first. Not exactly exciting stuff for a 13-year-old.
Fast forward twelve years and I've finally found a part of gardening I can really get behind: the edible part! Our balcony is now packed to the brim with three kinds of tomatoes, bell and jalapeno peppers, cucumbers, salad greens and 17 herbs. Every morning as I inspect our thriving little patch I'm amazed that this produce is actually growing 10 feet from our kitchen. That's a closeness I never want to be without.
So I'm happy to report that I've finally caught the gardening bug. And while I still don't care about the scientific names, I am toying with the idea of growing plants that I can't eat.
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