What I Planted First
May 6, 2026
The first things I planted this season were tomatoes, peppers, basil, and herbs. There is something hopeful about the first planting. It is not the harvest. It is not the part people notice. It is not the bowl of tomatoes on the counter or the herbs chopped into dinner. It is the beginning. Small plants. Warm soil. A plan that may or may not cooperate with the weather.
In Texas, the garden teaches quickly.
Basil and peppers usually know what they are doing in the heat. Other things have to prove they understand where they have been planted. Anything that underestimates a Texas summer is going to struggle.
I love the honesty of that. The garden does not respond to what I wish were true. It responds to conditions, attention, timing, water, heat, and care. It tells the truth in leaves and soil and fruit. It teaches me to pay attention.
Right now, there are tomatoes, peppers, herbs, flowers, and whatever decided to volunteer on its own. That last part may be my favorite. The volunteers.
The things that show up because something was planted before, because seeds moved, because nature decided it still had something to say. Not everything in a garden is planned, and not everything that grows comes from the place you expected. That feels like life to me.
We plant what we can. We tend what is in front of us. We learn the conditions. We adjust. We keep watering. We notice what is thriving and what is struggling. We accept that some seasons require more patience than others.
A first planting is an act of belief. You put something small into the ground because you believe something more may come from it. You do not get the harvest on the same day.
You may not even see much progress at first. But the work still matters. Tomatoes. Peppers. Basil. Herbs.
A beginning does not have to look impressive to be important.
With love and intention,
Jennifer
