There's a wonderful book called The Tin Forest by Helen Ward that talks about a man who lived in a dump, in the middle of nowhere special. He is lonely and dreams of having a garden. Little by little he welds the trash from the dump into an artificial steampunk style garden, with metal toucans and jaguars and trees. One day his construction attracts the attention of a real bird, who alights on the branch of tin can tree and after a snack of the man's bed crumbs, leaves behind a seed. The seed grows, and over time, the metal garbage garden turns into a real jungle, thanks to the man's vision of a future that seems impossible but turns out to just need to start somewhere. Not with a seed, but with using what you have to make what you need.

One of the defining characteristics about my garden is that there are many, many plants that have been, uh, borrowed, from other gardens. Plants are a little bit like light from a candle: you can light someone else's candle without losing any of the light from your own. And now I would like to share my garden light with you. I will write about seedlings and compost and watering and shade and weeding and bugs and propagating and collecting seeds and much more. What works and what hasn't. Each month I will send subscribers something from my garden, perhaps seeds or a cutting, a photograph or a notecard, an invitation to a garden-related event, or a surprise! Subscribers can also write me questions that I will do my best to answer on my Aixeta page.

Gardens are magical: plant a little shrunken seed and months later you might have a tomato, or a sunflower, or a pumpkin. Or like me, you might get a visit from a dragonfly, even in the middle of a very urban city. If you plant it, they will come. Welcome to my 'gracious garden', named for Gràcia, and beauty, and generosity.

Please do subscribe to help me keep writing. I will mostly write in English, but will try to translate it into Catalan as well.