I grew up gardening. My siblings and I spent hours each spring and summer helping our parents plant, weed, water, and harvest. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the garden served as my first playground and classroom. There was plenty of space for us to explore, each visit providing something new to discover. I loved to smell the beautiful flowers, dig through the dirt searching for earthworms, and run to the gate with my hands full of just-picked vegetables.

For those beginning years, it all felt like play. It was a place where my two older siblings and I could be free to explore, and we had fun watching seedlings develop into food, collecting buckets full of cucumbers and tomatoes, and testing the different settings on the nozzle of the hose whenever we watered. Yet the garden was full of secret lessons. I practiced counting the number of carrots we pulled from the ground. I discovered the importance of sunlight and water as the days grew longer and hotter, and I learned that being helpful was something to value. As my parents began to take me with them when they donated the vegetables we harvested, I saw how much our donations meant to the people receiving them.

I realize now how much of an impact those early experiences and lessons had on me. How strong a connection I felt between the garden and purpose and appreciation. How being rooted in nature has had a positive effect on me. So here