Read by Michael Flamel

Across a sleepy campus road, down a path of crushed clamshells, and past a sun-bleached wooden pavilion, lies the heart of our green-thumbed ambitions—a small but mighty field of raised garden beds, their edges neatly framed with corrugated aluminum. This is where Planting Day happens, a beloved tradition at the University of South Florida.

This year, the turnout is spectacular: more than 30 eager students have arrived, armed with nothing but curiosity, enthusiasm, and, for some, absolutely zero gardening experience. But before we can even think about planting, we have a problem. A big, leafy, aggressively yellow problem.

Last season’s overzealous wintercress enthusiasts got a little carried away, and now Barbarea vulgaris, better known as “yellow rocket,” has staged a full-blown coup. These towering invaders, with their leggy stems and bursts of yellow flowers, have completely taken over. Some are taller than me—wildflowers on stilts.

The newcomers groan in unison. Before we can plant anything, we’ve got some serious weeding to do.

The Battle of the Yellow Rockets

Pulling them is tricky—too spindly to properly grip, too thick-stemmed to cleanly snap. Within minutes, we’re covered in dirt, our hands stained green from their stubborn leaves. The sun climbs higher, and sweat glistens on foreheads, but on we press. Thirty minutes and countless yanks later, victory is ours. The beds are finally cleared, and Amanda, our ever-energetic garden club president, strides in with her clipboard.

She assigns plots, and I find myself next to Callie, a quiet girl in an oversized hoodie. As I kneel to clear my own plot of leftover mulch and debris, she just stands there, unmoving.

Gardeners in the Making

I finish prepping my bed and wander over to the pavilion, where a banquet of seed packets stretches before me like a gardener’s dream. Pumpkins, tomatoes, basil, strawberries, sunflowers, and something mysteriously labeled “Mystery Beans.”

I scoop up a handful of jolly jester marigolds, a couple dozen black oil sunflowers, and—why not?—a tiny baggie of the mystery beans. Around me, students excitedly discuss their plans: a salad garden here, a berry patch there.

But Callie still hasn’t moved.

“Everything okay?” I ask, setting down my tiny shovel.

She hesitates. “This is my first time gardening. Ever.”

Ah. The telltale uncertainty of a beginner.

I believe every gardener—whether a seasoned expert or a total newbie—has a little bit of grit in them. It’s the love of soil under your nails, the warmth of the sun on your back, the joy of seeing something you planted stretch toward the sky. It’s what makes us gardeners.

“Well,” I say, handing her a shovel, “no better time to start. Join me!”

She does.

And you know what? We had a blast. ❖

About the Author: Brandon Yu is a lifelong gardener from South Florida with a passion for storytelling and a borderline obsession with green onions. When he’s not tending to his apartment-sized onion grove, he’s probably dreaming up new ways to sneak scallions into his wife’s meals. He firmly believes that no dish is complete without a few finely chopped green onion stalks on top.