he wasn’t wrong. I spend too much time indoors—books, screens, overthinking. But up here on the rooftop, it’s different. The sky feels closer, filled with birds negotiating territory, neighbours debating lunch, and a dog ordering its tired human.
The Rooftop’s Evolution
This 8th-floor perch wasn’t always alive. Once, it was just concrete, dust, and sun’s faint promise. Now, it’s something else entirely. A collection of stories, really. Some planted, some winged, some crawling, some buzzing. A place where lettuces get terrified by summer storms, where Urraca keeps a watchful (and often judgmental) eye, and where spiders set up their kingdoms with more planning than I ever seem capable of.
A Growing Experiment
My rooftop urban gardening experience began with herbs—rosemary, then cherry tomatoes, citrus, strawberries, peppers—tempted by “just one more pot.” Each plant came with its own surprises. Some thrived, some sulked, some demanded attention like toddlers. And then came the unexpected visitors: the wasps, the ants, the butterflies, the sky spies perched on the antenna, and the many tiny creatures whose names I haven’t yet learned.
Lessons from Above
Rooftop gardening teaches patience, offers victories, and humbles me often. It’s a laboratory some days, a theatre others. This blog, Rooftop Urban Gardener (RUG), captures these tales from my urban rooftop gardening perch.
Join Me
So since he said I needed to get out more, I invite you to step onto the terrace with me. Mind the spider webs—and if you’d like, explore more of this world through my digital prints.
Read other Rooftop Stories