The Truth About Starting a Garden When You Have No Idea What You’re Doing
Let’s Get Real About This Gardening Thing...
I didn’t grow up gardening.
I’m a city girl through and through — raised around concrete, streetlights, and corner stores. The closest I ever got to a vegetable garden as a kid was helping bring in groceries. And yet… here I am. Completely captivated by the idea of growing my own food.
The truth is, I had no idea what I was doing when I started.
No farming background. No mentor. Just a quiet pull toward a slower, more intentional life — and a dream I never expected to fall in love with.
I couldn’t explain it at first, but I was drawn to this.
To the soil.
To the process.
To the peace I felt just standing next to something that was alive and growing because of my care.
The more I leaned in, the more I realized: this wasn’t just about food. It was about healing. About remembering that I could build something from scratch, even if I’d never seen it done before. And the dream of one day building TT’s Farm — my own land, my own space, my own homestead — well, let’s just say… it’s a dream I never saw coming.
But I love it here. I love who I’m becoming because of it.
If you’re curious about gardening but feel like you missed the memo on how to start — welcome!
If you’ve ever looked at a garden bed or a packet of seeds and thought, “I wouldn’t even know what to do with this,” — you’re not alone.
This post is for anyone who’s ever wanted to grow something but felt totally unqualified. It’s the truth about what I learned from starting a garden with no clue — and why I’d do it all again, mistakes and all.
✨ “You don’t have to bloom perfectly. You just have to trust that something beautiful is still possible here.”
— From Buried to Blooming, Chapter 3: Rooting in Grace
The Very First Plant That Sparked It All
My first “real” gardening experience didn’t come from a garden center or a master plan. It came from a free Earth Day giveaway at work.
I was working my corporate engineering job when the announcement went out: “Free tomato plants in honor of Earth Day—stop by the campus lawn.” I wasn’t really thinking about gardening at the time, but something about it sparked my curiosity. So I went.
I walked away with a small beefsteak tomato plant in a plastic pot, along with a little card with sunlight and watering instructions. I brought it home, placed it on my apartment windowsill in South Carolina, and started caring for it like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And honestly? I was excited.
Not just casually interested — excited in a way I couldn’t quite explain.
I didn’t grow up around gardens. I didn’t have a blueprint for this. But something in me just knew this was going to be special. It felt right. Familiar, even — like a part of me had been waiting for this without realizing it.
I expected that little plant to thrive. And it did.
It grew so quickly that I had to up-pot it four different times. What started as a windowsill project ended up on my doorstep in a five-gallon pot. I improvised with pencils as support stakes, Googled how to prune tomatoes, and celebrated every new leaf like it was a personal win.
And when it finally produced fruit?
That first homegrown tomato tasted like joy. Like effort and faith and care and something I didn’t even know I was looking for.
It was sweet, vibrant, and better than anything I’d ever bought in a store. “My very first tomato plant.”
I remember thinking, Why haven’t I done this before?
If I could grow this—without experience, without land, just from a place of hope and curiosity—what else could I grow?
I didn’t realize it then, but that tomato plant planted something in me, too:
A seed of purpose. A spark of healing. A quiet but certain pull toward a life I didn’t expect… and now never want to leave.
📸 My very first beefsteak tomato plant —full grown in all its glory. The one that started it all. Every new leaf gave me hope. Every up-pot reminded me I was growing, too.
From One Pot to Two Gardens: Gigi’s Garden and TT’s Farm
That tomato plant was a moment — but it wasn’t the beginning of a lifelong plan.
In fact, I didn’t connect the dots right away.
There were years — job changes, relocations, growth, grief, transitions, transformation. A lot of life happened between that windowsill and my first backyard garden bed. And in that time, I wasn’t thinking about sustainability. I wasn’t dreaming of a homestead. I didn’t even know what a grow light was.
But somewhere in the quiet layers of those years, something began to take root.
New values emerged. A desire for healing. Nourishment. Simplicity.
And slowly, the dream for TT’s Farm came into view — a dream that, looking back, had been growing long before I had language for it.
I didn’t recognize it at the time, but that tomato plant planted something in me, too. And when the vision for TT’s Farm started to rise up, I remembered it — how it felt to grow something with my own hands. And I realized: maybe I’ve been headed here all along.
And when that dream finally felt real enough to speak out loud, I did something I’d never done before: I recorded it.
Not to go viral. Not for views. Just to mark the moment.
That video became the start of something sacred — the first time I publicly shared my vision for TT’s Farm. It wasn’t fully formed yet, but it was mine. And I wanted to remember what it felt like to begin. To say it out loud. To believe it could grow into something real.
“This is me, starting where I am — and believing that something beautiful can come from it.”
Living the Dream Vicariously
With the support of my family, I started building Gigi’s Garden in the backyard of my parents’ home. And from the beginning, my mom was part of it.
When I told her I wanted to start a garden back there, she didn’t hesitate — she lit up. I asked her what she’d want to grow if we did this, and she immediately rattled off a list like it was second nature:
“Collard greens, mustard greens, kale, tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, peppers…”
She may not have had a garden of her own before this either, but it was clear — her roots knew.
She carried that Southern food wisdom, the kind you feel in your bones. The kind you want to pass down.
So that’s what we planted.
Greens. Tomatoes. Cucumbers. Onions. Peppers. A few hopeful herbs like thyme and basil. And some things that didn’t quite make it (RIP to the lettuce and marigolds). I had a whole companion planting plan… which also didn’t go quite as planned. But we learned. We adjusted. And when that first kale harvest came in — whew. It was all worth it.
At the same time, I was growing TT’s Farm — my indoor hydroponic system tucked into a corner of my apartment. It started as a way to keep gardening through the seasons, but it became something much deeper.
It became a reflection space.
A small, sacred routine. A reason to pause in the middle of everyday life and notice what was growing — not just outside of me, but within.
I’d sit in front of the soft glow of the grow lights and just listen. Watch. Breathe. Let the sound of flowing water soothe my thoughts.
And in those moments, I often wondered:
When was the last time you sat quietly enough to notice what’s changing in you?
What’s growing?
What’s asking to be tended?
TT’s Farm reminded me that growth doesn’t need permission. It just needs attention.
And even though I don’t have land yet, this tiny farm-in-progress reminds me daily that I’m already living the life I once dreamed of — in seed form.
You don’t have to have it all figured out to begin. Sometimes the dream is already growing — you just haven’t seen the fruit yet.
3 Lessons Every Beginner Gardener Should Know
Welcome to GG's Garden...we're already mid season where the growth (and life lessons) are non-stop!
Let’s be real: I made a lot of mistakes when I started gardening.
Over planned. Overplanted. Underestimated. But honestly? I wouldn’t change it.
Because each “oops” taught me something I never would’ve learned just watching YouTube or scrolling Pinterest. And if you’re just getting started, here are three things I wish someone had told me from the jump:
🌱 1. Less is more.
If you’re anything like me, you’ll get so excited that you’ll want to grow everything the first time around. And I get it — the seed catalogues, the Pinterest gardens, the little chalkboard plant markers… it’s a whole vibe.
But if I could do it again, I’d start smaller. Way smaller.
Oh Ashley... so bright eyed, bushy tailed and excited. (only a FRACTION of the seeds I actually purchased) lol
There’s so much to learn when you’re growing food — and every crop has different needs. When you try to manage too many at once, it’s easy to get overwhelmed and miss the joy.
Start with 2 or 3 things you know you’ll actually eat.
Grow them well.
Then build from there.
Healthy growth isn’t about doing more. It’s about doing less — more intentionally.
☀️ 2. Know the process before you begin.
Here’s the truth: I didn’t skip the hardening off process — I just did it wrong.
I lovingly nurtured my seedlings indoors under grow lights for six whole weeks. Then one bright, sunny day I proudly marched all of them outside… and sat them directly in full sun. No shade. No greenhouse transition. Just vibes.
By day three, over 60% of those seedlings were gone.
What I didn’t understand at the time was that plants — like people — need gentle transitions.
Hardening off is about gradually acclimating seedlings to sunlight and wind, giving them a chance to adapt to the outside world without being scorched in the process.
And if that’s not a metaphor for life, I don’t know what is.
Sometimes we rush ourselves into the spotlight before we’re rooted enough to handle the heat.
But good growth doesn’t rush. It transitions. It adjusts. It honors the pace that leads to strength.
🎥 The moment I didn’t know would teach me everything.
These were my seedlings during the hardening off process — over 60% didn’t make it.
Sometimes growth requires more grace than we think.
🌼 3. Get excited about next season now.
Your first season may not be perfect — mine definitely wasn’t. But it will teach you so much.
Take notes. Take pictures. Write down what worked and what didn’t. Start thinking about spacing, timing, and what you want to do differently.
And maybe — just maybe — take a few videos too. 😅📹
That’s what I did. I actually started my YouTube channel not to be an influencer or a garden guru, but simply to document the journey — for me.
One day, when TT’s Farm is a full-fledged homestead, I want to be able to look back at this season and see how far I’ve come. To have a record of what it looked like when I was just figuring it out, seed by seed, mistake by mistake.
Filming and reflecting has given me so much peace and perspective — even when things don’t go as planned.
If you ever want a behind-the-scenes look, or you're curious about what this kind of growth looks like in real life, you’re welcome to follow along on my channel.
The beauty of gardening is that it always gives you another chance to begin again — with more wisdom than you had before.
If this season feels messy or uncertain, good news: the next one’s already on its way.
💚 Want to care for your health beyond the garden?
If gardening has taught me anything, it’s this: the way we care for plants often mirrors the way we care for ourselves.
Sometimes, we forget to water what matters.
Sometimes, we try to grow too much at once.
Sometimes, we need help remembering that our needs are valid — and that small, steady care is enough.
If you’re ready to bring more ease and intentionality to your own well-being, I created something for you.
✨ Download: 5 Effortless Tips for Living a Healthier Life
It’s a free, gentle guide with five simple shifts that can help you reset your rhythm and support your health — one small step at a time.
📥 Click here to get the free guide →
Why I Still Show Up to the Garden Anyway
Gardening has become more than a hobby for me. It’s a rhythm. A ritual. A space where I get to return to myself, even when the world feels chaotic.
Some days, I just sit in front of my hydroponic system — the heart of TT’s Farm — and watch. I listen to the sound of water circulating through the pump. I notice the shift in color as a leaf turns toward the light. I catch the tiny growth I might’ve missed the day before.
And it quiets me.
It grounds me.
There’s something sacred about being responsible for life — even in a small way. The act of tending to something daily reminds me that I, too, am worth tending to.
You don’t always see the growth while it’s happening. But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.
Showing up to the garden — whether it’s my hydroponic corner or Gigi’s backyard — has become a form of reflection. A reminder that healing can happen slowly. That presence is more powerful than perfection. That nourishment doesn’t just come from what you grow — it comes from how you grow it.
Even on the days when nothing new is sprouting, I still go.
Because there’s always something alive out there — and often, there’s something waking up in me, too.
You’re More Qualified Than You Think
If you’ve made it this far, I hope you hear me clearly:
You don’t need a green thumb. You don’t need a backyard.
You don’t even need to know what you’re doing.
You just need the willingness to try.
That’s what I had when I brought home that first tomato plant. And that’s what I still have now — one season, one seed, one messy moment at a time.
So here’s your invitation:
Start small. Start where you are. Start with what you have.
Because truthfully? You’re more qualified than you think.
You can grow herbs on a windowsill.
You can grab a hydroponic system on sale like I did.
You can plant seeds in Dollar Tree pots and see what surprises you.
And if something in you is stirred by this journey — the beauty, the struggle, the slow becoming — I’d love to have you walk alongside me.
📹 Subscribe to my channel here and keep growing with me from apartment life to TT’s Farm. We’re just getting started.
🌸 Author’s Note: When Everything Feels Heavy
I know this post is about gardening.
But I also know that a lot of us are walking through things right now that planting seeds can’t fix.
There’s a heaviness in the air.
People are losing their jobs.
Families are being separated and deported.
The news is overwhelming. The future feels uncertain. And even the strong ones — the ones who “hold it together” for everyone else — are quietly breaking down.
If that’s where you are, I want you to know: I see you. I feel it too.
For me, gardening has become more than a wellness habit — it’s become a sacred space where I can exhale.
Where I can feel without fixing.
Where I can sit in the silence and remember that growth is still possible, even in broken soil.
And no — I’m not here to pretend that plants will fix the world.
But I am here to stand in the gap with you. To offer one small space of peace, perspective, and reflection in the midst of all this noise.
That’s why I created Bloom Notes — a 7-day devotional series for women who feel like they’ve been buried by life.
Each day includes scripture, a gentle note of truth, and a journaling prompt to help you come back to yourself — slowly, softly, and without shame.
If your nervous system is tired,
If your joy feels distant,
If your spirit is weary from pretending to be okay —
💌 This is for you.
🌼 Sign up for Bloom Notes below and take 5 minutes a day to remember: you are still here. And you’re still blooming, even now.
➡️ Start your free 7-day journey here
