I had been away from Dumbiedykes garden for two weeks—and from my home one. In that time, I had travelled to Dundee for the Plant Power event, where I had observed plant scientists explaining their research to families and children. My friend, whose work revolves around aphids, had brought me in to help design a game about plant pathogens. But her supervisor had loved the demo so much, that she had asked us to wait. Not to drop it, but to scale it further, with funding and support.

I returned home to find that one of my Eden roses had been infested with aphids. Feels like I'm making this up, but these were the same ones my friend had spoken about at the event. My mood soured instantly. I quarantined the sick plant, placing it far from the others like it had caught botanical Covid.

At Dumbiedykes, the weather carried over the same sombre mood. It was the first time I'd been to the garden in rain. Not many of us had shown up—just my friend (who I'd invited two weeks ago), two other volunteers, and me. The organiser was away, and in her absence, we all felt a little lost.

But the growth was undeniable. In two weeks, the beds were overflowing. It was the first time I saw the garden with some real distance, and could see change clearly.

My friend was new to it all. This time, I had the rare opportunity to observe legitimate peripheral participation—from the inside. He stood by the cold frame, scanning the pots for a name he recognised. It was the same thing I had done on my first day. He settled on Capsicum. I, now a "local," chose to adopt two plants without markers.

With no watering to do (the rain had taken care of that already), we transferred these plants into their new homes: my plant bed.

Before leaving, we picked a few ripe strawberries. They tasted different knowing I had laid their straw beds two weeks ago.

At home, I called my plant scientist friend and asked what to do about the aphids. She recommended spraying soap water. It felt odd dealing with her research out in the real world. Stranger still, that something that I had learned about in Dundee had followed me home and landed on my windowsill.