Baby Steps in Balcony Gardening

Ria had killed every plant she'd ever owned — marigolds, money plants, snake plants, succulents — and had accepted her ineptitude at growing things. Then her son asked how onions grow, setting in motion one family's first season of gardening: an onion propped up in a glass of water with mismatched forks, basil that dies and returns, an avocado that arrives bruised and speaks a deeper truth. This is a meditation on tending — to plants, to a child's curiosity, to yourself.A Book Of Luminous Things: An International Anthology of Poetry