In late February 2025, in North Texas, I bought my first GreenStalk.
I was in a temporary place at the time and didn’t want to build anything permanent. The tower made sense. It allowed me to grow multiple plants in a small footprint without committing to land I wouldn’t keep.
So I started simply.
Basil.
Peppers.
Oregano.
Collards.
Strawberries.
I didn’t start from seed. I didn’t know what I was doing. I bought transplants from a big box store and hoped I wouldn’t kill them.
And I didn’t.
The collards were strong. The herbs were generous. The strawberries technically grew, but the fruit was too small to justify the effort. That was one of my first quiet lessons: not everything that grows belongs in your system.
I didn’t rush forward.
When something worked, I stayed with it until I understood it. Onions came next. Then potatoes. I expanded carefully, not out of excitement, but out of confidence.
Two months later, in April 2025, I closed on my home and moved that same GreenStalk with me.
The scale changed after that.
Brassicas. Fruit trees. Raised beds. Systems.
But the foundation didn’t.
It started with one tower.
And the decision to begin before everything was perfect.
