My love for gardening didn’t start with a master plan or a Pinterest board.

It started with a Mother’s Day surprise.

Years ago, my oldest son came home from school carrying flowers and tomato plants from a Mother’s Day plant sale. Our family planted them together without much thought or expectation.

We watered.
We waited.
We watched.

And then… things actually grew.

We harvested tomatoes we grew ourselves. Not perfect ones, not flawless ones — but ours. That moment flipped a switch I didn’t even know existed.

I was hooked.

Every year after that, the tradition continued. My fiancé, Lee, and our three kids — Christian, Declan, and Scarlett — planted something new together. Flowers. Herbs. Vegetables. Sometimes all of the above.

Gardening became less about having a perfect yard and more about:

• Spending time together
• Getting our hands dirty
• Learning patience
• Celebrating tiny wins
• And occasionally mourning a plant that didn’t make it

After moving to Middle Tennessee, our garden grew right along with us. And honestly? It wouldn’t function without Lee. From building raised beds to hauling soil and fixing whatever I accidentally mess up — he’s the backbone of our garden chaos.

Now our garden is full of flowers, herbs, fruits, and vegetables we use to cook real meals together. It’s not perfect. It’s not always pretty.

But it’s full of love — and that’s what matters.