I think I have gardening in my blood. My Italian grandparents gardened and made wine in the Roman countryside. Summertime memories from my childhood include plates heaped with just-picked figs and peaches so juicy they’d drip all down my arm. My Nonno was so proud of his roses — if we didn’t smell them, he said they might as well not exist. My Nonna loved their cherry tree that looked “like a bride” when in full bloom.