I did it. I planted my rooftop "urban garden." I ripped out the two dozen dead (and scary!) jade plants that have haunted the deck for the last two years. They seriously looked like the fallen mermaids in the Little Mermaid who sold their souls to Ursula. They gave me a very funny feeling inside.
Anyway, they're gone now, replaced with electric pink dahlias, soft lavender bushes, creamy gardenia, jasmine and hydrangea. On the low shelves, protected by the wind, are tiny pots full of oregano, sage, thyme and basil. Young tomato plants line the back wall and will hopefully stay warm enough this summer to bear fruit.
Regardless of how it all turns out and what lives or dies, it felt so good to dig my nails into the potting spoil, to gently coax the seedlings out of their plastic containers and into the dirt. And it continues to feel good to look out back each morning and see their little faces looking up at me, wondering when the water's coming, the summer, the sun. I don't know, I tell them, but I'll do my best.