Somewhere between a bag of seeds and a shovelful of good compost, I fell in love with this whole thing.
It started with my dad. He was the kind of gardener who didn’t just grow plants — he understood them. Watched them. Knew what they needed before they showed any signs of asking. I spent a lot of time following him around the garden as a kid, mostly trying to be useful, probably just getting in the way. But it stuck.
Over the years I’ve gardened in just about every situation you can imagine — pots crammed onto a tiny balcony, a wild three-acre plot that fought back every step of the way, suburban backyards that became something worth being proud of. Every one of them taught me something different. Every one of them reminded me that the garden is always the teacher and you’re always the student.
Somewhere along the way I stopped thinking about gardening as growing pretty things and started thinking about it as working with a system. Food forests. Companion planting. Building soil instead of just feeding plants. Letting nature do the heavy lifting if you set things up right. That’s where My Garden Green lives now — in that space between beginner curiosity and the deeper satisfaction of a garden that largely takes care of itself.
I wrote a beginner’s guide called Garden Green along the way — you can find it on Amazon if you’re just getting started and want something to hold in your hands.
But mostly I just write about what I’m learning, what’s working, and what isn’t. Pull up a chair.