I’ve never believed in the notion that someone is born with certain talents. It always seemed too idealistic to think that an affinity towards something could just be passed down through one’s bloodline. Generations upon generations linked mysteriously through DNA and special skills. It sounds nice in a novel or movie, but I’ve always felt like it takes away from a person’s dedication and efforts. While both of my parents excel at gardening, it doesn’t necessarily mean I have the “green thumb gene.” Maybe she’s born with it – or maybe (and more likely) she’s put in a lot of hard work, time, sweat and tears into it in hopes of living up to her family members!

This summer I plan to put that (working) phrase to the test though. After two years on a waiting list, I was granted my very own plot at a community garden in South Philadelphia, and I couldn’t be more excited.

Capitolo Community Garden has been around in its current state since 2009 and was funded in part by a grant of $10,000 from the Philadelphia Eagles Dream Park Challenge. The garden currently has 53 individual plots and one larger community plot. It boasts additional features as well, including a butterfly migration passage, picnic benches, and a Little Free Library for its patrons and guests.

Since joining the community garden earlier this year, I’ve gotten my hands dirty with several group workdays and many visits to weed, plant and tend my own plot. Capitolo gardeners must attend at least two workdays and meetings a season to adhere to the membership agreement. The workdays have been one of my favorite things about the garden. A workday might consist of clearing sticks and debris from the garden plots to set out for trash pick-up, or dispensing wood chips around the paths that link the plots together.

As simple as it may sound, working together with a bunch of fellow gardeners on a physical task like shoveling wood chips into barrels is more satisfying than I could have imagined. It probably has something to do with having a home-based computer job. Sending an astutely worded email to a cranky journal editor pales in comparison to hoisting that final wheelbarrow of mulch into a freshly weeded garden bed. Sure, my back might hurt for a few days afterwards. My back sometimes hurts from sitting in my desk chair for too long. But the simple, innate pleasure of literally wiping sweat from my forehead after a couple of hours of physical labor is thrilling (and way more satisfying).

As far as my actual garden plot is concerned, things are going well (fingers crossed!). I’ve planted a couple varieties of peppers, some eggplant, beans, and a tomato plant. I’ve even managed to successfully transplant some vegetables that I started from seed, including turnips (my all-time favorite), corn, and carrots. The latter two came from Plant a Seed packets that I was gifted. You may already know about Plant a Seed, the yearly campaign run by Slow Food USA that aims to preserve biological and cultural diversity while educating and inspiring individuals and farmers alike. You can learn more about the program and look at past season’s seed kits here.

While I’ve reveled in some early successes, I have also had a few learning moments this early into the summer. On one afternoon trip to the garden plot, my mom accidentally pulled what she thought was a weed but was really a carrot. We tried to delicately place the baby vegetable back into the dirt, only for me to realize a few days later that we had essentially just buried the thing, all that was missing was a eulogy. Or more recently, when a fellow gardener noticed my slightly overgrown plot and noted that what I thought was my bean plant growing loud and proud was actually an infestation of morning glory.

Snafoos aside, I can already imagine partaking in the fruits of my labors – a few beans to snap off the vine and eat while weeding out thistle, or a few cherry tomatoes to pick and add to that night’s lazy, summer dinner.

So maybe some things do run in the family, while others are just a product of hard work and persistence. Even my mom, who I’ve always revered as a master gardener, can mistake a carrot for a weed. Time will tell soon enough if I’ve lived up to the standards I’ve set against my parents, but I feel good about the growth I’ve seen so far.

By Rachel Alfiero