Three Flights Up and Slightly Unhinged: A citrus story

In my head, it was going to be gorgeous.

What I dreamt and imagined.

I mean just look at it! Look at the vision in my head!

A little balcony garden. Some herbs in terracotta pots. Maybe a tomato plant. Very European.

Very ..... "I summer in Provence but in a relatable way."

I'd water things in the evenings. Birds would come. I'd feel centered and grounded and like someone who has her life together.

That was the plan.

What I have. Hey, I'm proud.

What actually happened is that I now own four citrus trees — three flights up, no elevator — my Ponderosa lemon has the emotional stability of a reality TV contestant, and I spend a concerning amount of my week hauling a five-foot tree in and out the patio like some kind of exhausted citrus butler.

The tomato? Sharing a pot with a succulent. I don't know how that happened. They seem fine with it. I'm not asking questions.

And somewhere along the way, I also acquired a gardening assistant — my very anxious puppy, Stevie — who supervises every step of the process. Because of course she does.

Is it slightly unhinged? Absolutely. Is it what I pictured when I thought "maybe I'll grow something on my patio"? Not even close.

But here's the thing: it's been one of those hard seasons. The kind filled with overwhelm, grief, and stress — where life keeps throwing things at you faster than you can process them. And somehow, despite the chaos — or maybe because of it — things are actually growing.

And I'm sure by now you're all used to my mother's beautifully written blogs and her excellent gardening wisdom, but this? This is another one of my apartment patio misadventures, and trust me, this one has gotten a little chaotic.

My newest obsession—despite many people telling me it's a horrible idea—is citrus trees.

I know what you're thinking already: How exactly are you planning to grow fruit trees on an apartment patio three flights up? Honestly? I'm still figuring that out myself. But considering I somehow now own four different citrus trees, I've decided it can't be impossible.

So. Let me introduce you to the circus.

The Collection

My current lineup includes:

A Ponderosa lemon that is absolutely too large for my patio and somehow also the pickiest plant I own.

A tiny variegated strawberry lemon that I bought solely because I thought it looked cool.

A calamondin that I still don't fully understand, but it has fruit, so I'm assuming it's happy

.

A key lime tree, which I've repeatedly been informed is "not ideal" for my climate—but a girl can dream, right?

The Ponderosa lemon, specifically, has become my personal nemesis. It is unbelievably dramatic about lighting. Too much direct sun? Unhappy. Not enough sun? Also unhappy. So now I spend a concerning amount of time hauling a giant citrus tree in and out of the apartment trying to keep it satisfied.

The diva's understudy.

And that's not even including the herbs, the squash plants, or the rather ambitious tomato plant currently sharing a pot with a succulent. I'm not entirely sure how that arrangement happened, but somehow they both seem perfectly content with the situation.

At this point, I've basically created a tiny food forest on my apartment balcony while simultaneously working full time and attempting to survive grad school. Is it slightly unhinged? Probably. But it's also become one of my favorite little projects.

My sister and roommate, Jenna, is not always thrilled when I randomly appear carrying home another citrus tree, but I think she secretly enjoys watching them grow just as much as I do. At the very least, she's stopped questioning why new plants keep magically appearing on the patio.

Meanwhile, my best friend has openly discussed stealing some of them because we both have a slight plant collecting problem. Apparently once you buy one interesting plant, your brain immediately convinces you that you need twelve more.

And somehow, despite the chaos, things are actually growing.

My ever bearing strawberry plant recently produced three strawberries, which honestly felt like a major life accomplishment. Were they tiny? Yes. Did I still stare at them proudly like I had successfully started a commercial farm operation? Absolutely.

What I've Learned So Far

First: worm castings are incredible.

Technically, I already knew the science behind them. I knew they improve soil structure, add beneficial microbes, help with nutrient retention, and provide slow-release nutrients plants can actually use. But knowing the science and actually watching it happen are two completely different things. Seeing my tomato plant practically double in size and watching cucumbers suddenly take off felt a little like gardening magic. There's something oddly satisfying about watching healthy soil do exactly what it's supposed to do in real time.

Second: when planting seeds, do not plant them too close together.

RIP to the squash seedlings that didn't make it.

Third: citrus trees are picky.

You can't just throw them into random soil with generic fertilizer and hope for the best. After a lot of trial and error, my current citrus blend seems to be working well: perlite, potting mix, worm castings, a little coco coir, and orchid bark for drainage. Citrus likes to dry out—but not too much—and apparently enjoys keeping gardeners constantly guessing. They're dramatic plants, honestly.

The Gardening Assistant

Employee of the month.

My tiny garden has become a peaceful escape lately, and my gardening assistant, Stevie (Stevie Nicks, The Dog)—my very anxious puppy—is completely obsessed with supervising every step of the process.

All that being said, growing a little garden on a tiny apartment porch isn't impossible. It's definitely a learning curve, but it's also been one of the most rewarding little experiments I've taken on.

Yeah, life has definitely thrown me for a loop lately, but there's something comforting about watering plants in the evenings, checking for new growth, and realizing that even tiny things are still growing through hard seasons.

And honestly, maybe my grandmother was right when she always said: when life gets hard, go put your hands in some dirt.

For now,

Your favorite not-so-green-thumb patio grower 🌱

— Kyra

P.S. — The worm castings that made my tomatoes double in size? They come from my family's farm. If you want to see what healthy soil can actually do — even on a tiny apartment patio — you can grab some here: Shop Origin Reserve Worm Castings →

And if you want to follow along as my mom documents cover cropping, soil samples, and her own way back through grief — or watch me inevitably acquire more citrus trees — join the newsletter:

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