The Growing Place


That’s what Los Angeles is for me. I’ve always wanted to grow my own food. I was seven when I planted some radishes at my family home. We moved before I got to see if they sprouted.

When I got my own garden in SoCal, I was thrilled to buy young tomato, peppers and basil for my new plot. I’d dug the soil and buried a type of soaker hose made from recycled tires. It was roughly molded into a hose shape, so it leaked throughout by design. I wound it around where the tomatoes would go and put it on the lawn timer. Genius idea. My plants were thrilled and shot up like it was their own idea. There was some powder I dusted the blossoms with, using a small paintbrush. Boom! Every one became a tomato so fat they cracked at the stem and tore their own branches. What an exciting win! I carried them to work by the buckets-full and co-workers snapped them up.

I feel pretty in love with a place where everything grows with such ease. This year, I have a new garden in pots, and I started my plants from seeds. A first! Some rough starts but they’re tall and green tomatoes have formed. Growing food is a pleasure I couldn’t have guessed would be so pleasurable.

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