Gma’s Garden

Back in September, my Grandma Margaret turned 101. Living with her when I first came to the Bay Area in 2013 showed me a side of history and her life that I never saw before.  One of my favorite memories with her isn’t about dinners or parties —it’s about a garden.

“Why did you bring dirt to my house?” Grandma Margaret, then 95, asked me one spring day in 2018. 

I stood at the top of the staircase, covered in soil, looking down at this tiny, 85-pound Chinese woman who had just caught me hauling dirt into her home.

“Why did you bring dirt to my house?” she repeated, her sharp eyes narrowing.

“It’s for the garden,” I explained, speaking slowly. “Your soil isn’t good.”

Her only response was a curt “Hmm,” followed by, “Don’t bring dirt into the house,” as she shuffled back to the living room.

How It All Started

The idea of the garden began in 2017, a year before the infamous soil delivery. I built two small planter boxes in the cool, misty climate of San Francisco’s Richmond District. It’s not the friendliest weather for gardening—located less than two miles from the Pacific Ocean, the area’s fog and wind make it tough to grow much of anything.

But I wanted to try.

Before we go further, though, you need to know about the house.

Grandma Margaret and my grandfather, whom we called YeaYea, bought their home in 1953 for less than $9,000 in cash. They faced housing discrimination while trying to purchase in San Francisco, rejected by sellers when neighbors realized they were Chinese.

The Richmond District was the first neighborhood that let them in, making them the first Asian family on the block. My aunts were the first Chinese students at Argonne Elementary School.

Their home is like many others in San Francisco: sandwiched between two other houses, narrow and deep, with three floors. Their home has 3 bedrooms, and a sunroom. My grandparents raised five children over three decades. It’s where countless parties were held, where stories of the past were shared, and where the younger kids played hide and seek while the older ones hung out on the stairs playing board games. 

The backyard? A small patch of grass, some shrubs, and an uneven concrete slab that once served as a basketball court.

The First Garden

That first year, with just two planter boxes, I managed to grow lettuce, radishes, green beans, tomatoes, and zucchini. The strawberries were pitifully small, because of the lack of sunlight, but the zucchini was a runaway success. Six plants produced more zucchinis than I knew what to do with.

Radishes. GMA for scale 

Encouraged, I decided to expand. That’s when the soil delivery happened.

It took four hours to unload 400 pounds of soil from a Home Depot rental truck, wheelbarrow by wheelbarrow, through the narrow backyard door. The garden flourished the following year: bigger tomatoes, fresh mint, and more greens than ever before.

My cousins joined in, planting fruit trees along the backyard’s edges.

Passing the Torch

I moved out in 2014 but stayed in the city. Years later, during the pandemic, Grandma Margaret had a health scare. She recovered, but we realized she could no longer live alone. That’s when Sui, her caregiver, stepped in—not just for Grandma, but for the garden.

Sui has taken the garden to another level. Today, it’s lush and thriving, filled with peas, lettuce, broccoli, bok choy, winter melons, and shark fin melons—some bigger than watermelons. She grows plants for their seeds and even collects rainwater in bowls and containers during storms.

Now, when I visit, I sometimes find Sui working on the garden while Grandma Margaret basks in the sun watching. 

A Living Legacy

What started as a project to keep me busy during visits to my grandma has become something much bigger. The garden has brought life to a once-barren backyard, drawn my family closer together, and created a space where memories continue to grow.

The garden is more than just plants—it’s a reminder that growth is always possible, even in the unlikeliest conditions. You just have to plant the seeds, nurture them, and spend a little time watching them thrive.