I taped this quote to my desk when I was 16. For me, there’s something almost sacred about growing. I love getting dirty, the smell of rich soil, the planting, pinching and harvesting. It’s home.
One reason I like plants is because they don’t talk back. Unlike most social occasions, I don’t lie awake in bed agonizing over what I’ve said or done after spending the day in the garden.
In the garden I am a superhero; I can bring a flat of clearance sale geraniums back from the dead. (Unfortunately, I can just as easily forget that I left said flat in the trunk of my car during a heatwave. True story.)
Ten years after my husband and I escaped to Maine, I’m livin’ the dream growing herbs on my farm. I’ve done it all, from farmer’s markets and mail-order to florists, brides and wholesale. The off-season is filled with speaking gigs, organizing photos and writing books (The Backyard Gardener), blogs and articles. Not to mention my ever-growing laundry pile that threatens to overtake us (Everyday I pray it’s learned to fold itself).
When I realized I couldn’t do it all myself, a friend asked, “What do you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” A plain, straightforward question. My plain, straightforward answer: grow and share. So here I am, game on!