Miners' Lettuce

In the late spring two years ago, my first spring in my San Francisco home, whenever I wandered through McLaren Park, I collected Miners' Lettuce seeds. A native plant that's also a delicious salad green is a plant that is made for a garden like mine.

The following late winter, my now-stepdaughter and I threw seeds in places in my yard that seemed like natural habitats for the plant. Of the thousands of seeds we tossed into the soil, only one plant grew to maturity. I was frustrated. The climate and conditions seemed perfect for this not too picky plant. But I also consoled myself: prior to the work I started in my garden when I moved in, the soil had been covered with a thick layer of industrial plastic—not weedcloth—topped with mulch. No rain got to most of the soil. I didn't find worms or beetles or red spiders when I dug around. I found very little that was alive.

But, that one plant made it and I didn't nibble on even a single leaf. Instead, I babied it along, and when it went to seed, I tossed those seeds everywhere.

This year in the rainy season, Miners' Lettuce has popped up everywhere, even in places I don't remember tossing the seeds. Perhaps the plants have resulted from seeds that have laid dormant until they could find their foothold. Perhaps they needed the fungus and worms and slender salamanders that have moved in.

Perhaps everything just needed to rot a while for the growing to get good.