I planted a raised bed full of herbs in my backyard last year in hopes of gaining a better understanding of where my food comes from, as well as to enjoy the
fruits herbs of my labor. Despite next to no prior experience in the garden, for the next few months I was a woman obsessed, tending to my garden with care day in and day out.
Cut to three months later, when I sheepishly pulled into the garage under the cover of darkness with a seemingly lifeless twig of a fig tree in the car trunk. Inexperienced, and without a proper home for a tree with a decades long life-span, I set it up next to its fragrant friends and watered away, hoping for a sign of life. Slowly, but surely, leaves sprouted forth, and I marveled at each subsequent, shoot, bud and leaf; from my enthusiasm (and over-sharing with anyone who'd listen) you'd think I birthed the tree myself.