My first memories of plant life began while tending to my father's garden. His yard was a luscious Jungle to me- a name we still call his botanical escape. When my brother and I were curious kids we would head our to our California backyard and watch our father patiently fill the moats surrounding his trees with water and love for hours. I still remember thinking to myself How can he stay out here so long?

Years later I understand his plant obsession as is it my own.

Young apprentices: My brother and I watering our backyard

My father is a fruit tree guy. He was given the name Tree Surgeon many years ago for his meticulous grafting skills- his steady hand cuts tissues from one plant and inserts their branches as part of another plant. Through this process he has created incredible specimens of multiple function, beauty, and curiosity.

A raspberry plant grafted to offer 3 different types of berries on its branches

A grafting incision on one of his branches

Growing up I rejected my father's wild approach to landscape design. But as I got older I noticed the nuances, order, and the artisan quality of his craft.

My father has 6 chickens: Whitney, Mariah, Gloria, Jessica, Adele and Gaga (who turned out to be a rooster) — My father has 6 chickens: Whitney, Mariah, Gloria, Jessica, Adele and Gaga (who turned out to be a rooster)

One of his many abundant peach trees interlocking with a grafted Apple tree

His garden is endless--literally every corner of my childhood remembrance overflows with plant life.

When I asked my father how his crops grow so big, so lush, and so plentiful every season he told me his secret: by singing the songs of his country's vocal ambassador: Fairuz.

He is also a flower guy.

When I was a little girl, he would hybridize roses to make his own custom creations that spoke to the personalities of each of his love ones. My mother's flower was a version of the Queen Elizabeth Rose he custom created; a soft pink color with perfect pedals. Elegant. Feminine.

Whenever I look at a Queen Elizabeth Rose I remember her special flower that was planted at the entry way of my front yard, welcoming guests to our home. I see my mother through my father's eyes.

My mother's custom rose in my front yard: Monica — My mother's custom rose in my front yard: *Monica*

For me he created a custom Fire and Ice Tea Rose. My Fire and Ice Tea Rose is smaller in size to its classic rose bush counterpart, but gives a dynamic color performance to my father's garden. Like an opera, its pedals unfold white, change to yellow and orange, and end with a grand finale of gorgeous red.