After a hurried visit to the farmer’s market with my mother and grandmother, I catapulted home to hastily transplant my sprouts under the nerve-racking supervision of elder generations. Days of nursing, roller-coaster temperatures, and stinging winds left me with limp, yellow nubs of plants. I threw them out (to my mother’s horror) and took a whole day, alone, to peruse the local garden center, thoughtfully select my babies and plant lazily but carefully in the side-yard. They are doing much better this time around. I’m coming to realize that gardening is a personal journey which should be taken at one’s own pace. It’s not rocket science, it’s an investment. Make it your own.