I was about 7 and begged my mom to weed her iris bed.

After getting settled in I decided to look around a bit in my new home neighborhood. I spotted what looked like a small garden of cowpeas. Looking closer, I saw they were indeed cowpeas, just like my parents and grand parents grew.

I picked them and cooked them with some canned ham slices. They were incredibly good and made me terribly homesick but I savored every bite, chewing slowly and trying to absorb them into my very soul. Some of the best peas I have ever ate and a memory I will never forget.

I was in Viet Nam. 1968. I'm gonna be a gardener until...

I was 8ish....I always wanted to clean up and prune the front yard....so I shaped the Wax Myrtle like an oak...and removed all the ground cover in the front beds (juniper that had taken YEARS to grow)....then I pulled up all the sweet potatoes my dad had planted around the pool enclosure.....instead of getting mad at me....He rented a tiller and helped me plant my first vegatable garden.....He didn't share or give much in his life with us kids while he was alive..BUT I thank him from the bottom of my heart for sharing gardening with me that year..I was hooked....It has become such a huge part of who I am.....

1942, my favorite uncle had left for the war so my grandma helped me plant a Victory garden. I even had a flag, which she made, on a pole so he could see it when he flew over in his airplane. (He wasn't in the Air Corp). :o) After that I tagged along behind her every day in her garden.Eventually, I guess I became helpful, planting seeds and pulling weeds. She couldn't bend down from artritis. My happiest childhood memories are in in that garden.
john

I guess a Victory Garden was my start, too, although I don't recall having much success with it. What I loved, was 'helping' my grandfather take care of his big draft horse. With just under an acre of land, we didn't qualify as farmers, so got no break on rationed gas. Ginger pulled the plow, carried composted manure from a local diary, delivered grampa's famous sweet corn and grampa and Ginger prepped many other small gardens around town.
In the evenings, after supper, the entire family would put a tiny bit of kerosene in tin cans and walk up and down the rows of tomatoes, potatoes, beans and pick off beetles and worms and drop them into the cans. And in times of no rain, huge watering cans were filled at the pump - over and over and over again. Then came the harvests in their turn, to be canned or dried, sold or shared.
I think gardening became to mean the entire cycle to me, with happy memories from seed to seed. It's why I keep wanting to go back and do it again and again.

One day when I was around 7 and looking for something to do, my mom gave me a handful of dried beans and popcorn and told me to stick my finger in the dirt somewhere, drop one in each hole and cover them up. A couple of weeks later there were bean and corn plants coming up and I was so amazed and proud of myself. Also, I was able to remember all the plants' Latin names in the yard (my mom taught me) and they used to show off my knowledge when people came to visit. Didn't like weeding, though and still don't.

When I was a little girl in Ohio I grew a GIANT sunflower and entered it in the fair.

When I was knee high to a grasshopper ;-)

I have fond memories of our summer family reunions in Georgia, everyone showed up for a week at a time, staggered over about three weeks to help my aging grandparents, who were commercial farmers, pick the summer crops before heading south to Opa Locka to farm the winter/spring crops.

Tom

I was in 1st grade. I found a small viola growing in a sidewalk crack blooming. I pulled it up and carried it home. We planted it in the garden. After that it seeded itself and we had them all through the lawn. :-) I still love those tiny little faces.

When I finally bought a house, in my 50s. But "gardener" seems too noble. Call me a yard junky.

These stories are so sweet! I love 'em! My second adventure was at 11, taking an egg carton and some old pony poo from the pasture next door and planting tomatoes in each egg cup. My dad brought us a shelter dog as a surprise. The dog grabbed my 'seed starting setup' and ran all over the place scattering pony poo. I was mad as a hornet, and pretty embarrased that our yard smelled like a dirty stable to boot.

My grandad had a huge garden that he fed his family with. My grandma would tell one of the kids what to pick and how much for dinner that night. Food was so tasty then!

When I was a very young girl in rural England, maybe 4 or 5 years old. I used to make miniature gardens from moss, tiny rocks and small plants.

I was always intrigued by all the plants and insect and animal life that existed at ground level, hiding in long grass or under other plants. In summer I used to lie on my stomach on the path that ran through the meadow surrounding my parents' house just to observe the activity that went on at the base of the grasses and flowers.
I was always collecting wildflowers for my mother. I love the sculptural quality of the tropical plants and trees here and their outrageous, vivid colors but those English wildflowers with their exquisite scents and gorgeous colors are still my favorite flowers of all time.