Read by Matilda Longbottom

“How will you grow a garden and take care of two little children?” my mother asked, just days before I gave birth to my second child. It was a fair question, especially since my parents had juggled raising three kids, full-time jobs, and a sprawling, grassy backyard. My mother often reminisces about the vegetable garden we once had (though my memory of it is hazy at best). But I do recall other bits of our backyard—the bright red blooms of our Chinese hibiscus shrub, the tall lemongrass we’d cut for dinner, and the leggy inai (henna) tree, its leaves a neighborhood favorite for dyeing hair or decorating hands. Mostly, I remember picking tiny red berries that the birds loved, too, and swinging on our four-person swing, watching the world go by.

“Watch me,” I whispered to myself. Challenge accepted. Deep down, I had no idea how I’d manage a garden on top of everything else that Summer, but I wasn’t ready to give up before trying. It felt like an opportunity I’d been waiting for ever since we moved into our new place. I knew little about gardening beyond what I’d observed from others—my father-in-law, who grew enough produce to skip the grocery store each Summer, a close friend with a garden bursting with berries, flowers, and fruit trees, and the avid gardeners in our neighborhood whose front yards I admired on evening strolls.

A month before my baby arrived, I tackled the garden beds, breaking up the soil and mixing in fertilizer, all while huffing and puffing with my pregnant belly. Starting from seed seemed too daunting, so I opted for seedlings instead: Sungold tomatoes, eggplants, sunflowers, hot peppers, nasturtiums, basil, and green peas. I even scattered a packet of wildflower seeds in their own little corner, letting them grow wherever they pleased.

After my second baby was born, the garden thrived in the peak growing season. It became a sanctuary in my postpartum days—a peaceful, calming place where I could bring my new baby to watch the other “babies” grow. I marveled as eggplant flowers turned to fruit, sunflowers stretched higher into the sky, and bees buzzed happily through the wildflower bed. The garden was also a welcome distraction for my toddler, who, in the throes of daily tantrums, found solace in plucking ripe tomatoes or gathering flowers for the mud kitchen.

So, how does one grow a garden and care for children at the same time? With the same curiosity of a toddler, wonderment of a newborn, and compassion of a mother. ❖

About the Author: Denise Chin enjoys experimenting with plants that remind her of her childhood in tropical Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. As a mother and immigrant, these identities deeply influence her writing. Her work has appeared in Provecho, a Portland-based BIPOC-focused magazine on food and identity; the anthology Telltale Food: Writings from the Fay Khoo Award; and the Malaysian online food portal Periuk.my. Her second runner-up essay in Samfiftyfour’s Asian Diaspora Essay Contest was featured in the anthology Best Malaysian Food Writing (Nov 2024). Denise lives in Portland, OR, with her husband and two little girls.