Excerpt from The Garden of Small Beginnings by Abbi Waxman, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"Good to go," she informed me.

"Clare?" I wanted to make sure the little one hadn't lost the power of speech since breakfast. Presumably, I'd have gotten a call from the teacher, but with all these budget cuts . . .

"Good to go, cheerio." OK, smallest planet heard from.

I scrabbled around on the floor for my phone and called Rachel back. I put it on speaker this time and yelled at it as it lay in my lap. After all, now I had the kids in the car. Safety first, people. Rachel picked up before it even rang on my end. She's a very busy woman.

I watched for a gap in the traffic as I yelled at the phone. "Hey, why didn't you say bring me the fixings for pasta carbonara? And why can't you stop on your way home?"

"Because I like to give you little riddles to solve, little challenges that keep you on your toes. Otherwise, your brain will atrophy, and then who will help the kids with their homework?"

"Are you cooking for us, too?"

"I certainly can. I'd be happy to. Why are you shouting at me?"

"I'm not shouting at you, the Bluetooth's broken. But I'm glad you're making dinner." I took a left.

"Are we going to the store?" asked Annabel. I knew she found the store irritating but was balancing that against the possibility of sudden candy.

I nodded.

"One other thing," added my sister. "You'll have to tell me how to make it."

"And then are we going to Aunty Rachel's?" asked Clare.

I nodded and then shook my head. My sister was doing her Jedi-mind-trick "These aren't the droids you're looking for" thing. "Wait, Rach, let me ask you this: If I'm buying the groceries and making the dinner, why aren't you coming to my house?"

There was a pause.

"Oh, that's a much better idea. Thanks! I'll see you later on." She started to hang up.

"Stop," I interrupted. "If you're coming over, you can pick up the groceries. I've got the kids, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. OK." She hung up.

I looked at Clare in the rearview mirror. "No, honey, Aunty Rachel is coming to our place."

Both kids looked happy to hear it. They really did like her better than me. And why not? She could turn a request for a favor into an invitation to dinner and make you feel good about it.

Preparing Your Garden

As soon as your soil is soft enough to work, turn it over with a fork and leave it alone for several days.

Cover the soil with a 1-inch-thick layer of compost. Don't skimp.

Use a spading fork to loosen up the soil. Mix in the compost. Rake out stones and other crap, leaving the soil smooth.

A 10 x 16 feet plot is a good-size for a beginner. If that's too daunting, start smaller. Remember, one pot on a balcony is still a garden.

Your seed packets have a world of information. They'll tell you best conditions and times to plant. Not sure? Ask someone at the garden center, or call your local agricultural extension. Gardeners love to grow other gardeners.

Chapter One

I'm an illustrator, which sounds romantic, as if I spend my days under a spreading tree, dapple-splashed with sunshine, a watercolor tablet steady on my knee. Actually, I spend my days slumped in an office chair, destroying my posture and working on a computer. There is sunshine, of course, this being Southern California.

I love doing traditional illustration, the pencil and paint stuff, and I wish I had more time to do it, but when I left college, the job I found was illustrating school textbooks. I took the job expecting it to be a good starting place, but it turned out to be a great big comfy chair of a job, with a good salary, benefits, free coffee, and all the second-grade textbooks I could ever want. Eighty-two percent of American school children use Poplar Press products, and have done so for nearly a century. I love it. I learn all kinds of interesting stuff, and I draw and create things kids look at and, presumably, doodle little hats and mustaches on. Once, Annabel brought home one of my textbooks—Kids in History, Fourth Edition—and I saw that dozens of kids had used it, each of them adding new details to my historical figures I never would have imagined. Who knew Martin Van Buren was so well hung?

Excerpted from The Garden of Small Beginnings by Abbi Waxman. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.