My brother was born.
They sent me to stay
with my grandmother.

She had camellias
and roses.
There was a plum tree.

It marked me for life.

(There is a photo --
black and white --
I'm in a sunbonnet
with a watering can
almost my height.)

At sixteen,
I dug a flowerbed
in the lawn
without permission

and made a rock path
in another bed.
I could not
be stopped.

Later
I demanded
a sunny part of the yard
for vegetables.

It expanded: peas
next to the hedge.
Asian greens
by the roses.

Parsley bordering
the euonymus.
Potatoes
in a bare spot.

I took my jade plant
to college
and dug wildflowers
to bring home.

In the city I had
houseplants.
It wasn't enough.

From the train window
obsessively
I counted
wildflowers.

I snatched seeds
when I saw them,
and threw them
in bare places.

Now I have
two acres.
I am growing

everything.

I have almost
run out of friends
to give tomatoes to.

Soon
I will be known as
the crazy lady
with all the plants.

Maybe I am
already.

But, do you wash your hands before you handle the dirt? That will be the next question we get asked when filling out an application for a permit to give our edibles away.