When I was five, I planted six cherry seeds in my grandmother's yard. I carefully washed off the pulp, wrapped them in a paper towel, and carried them to a place I was permitted to "dig up." Every Sunday, I checked their progress. I'd poke around the ground desperate for a shoot, a sign, anything, but was always disappointed. It was nearly September before I gave up on them and admitted failure. As an adult, I know growing a cherry tree is much more complicated than plopping pits in the yard, yet the difficulty baffles me. It's hard to grow and maintain plants, and I'm humbled by people who can do it with ease. My small garden is finally shaping up, and as I snapped this photo from my bedroom window, I celebrated the results as much as the learning process. I have a long way to go, but I can now prune basil so the plant stays full, and know how to tease the vines into optimal positions. My goal this year was a green garden (as in alive, not dead), and so far so good.