My mother has the greenest thumb of anybody I know. Seriously, all she has to do is look at a plant, and it immediately grows several inches and begins blooming. And although my mother has shared many of her fine qualities with me; a talent for art, a love of books, even a few freckles, alas, her green thumb is not among them.
I love flowers. Unfortunately, they don’t love me.
When my hubby and I bought our first home, unaware of this serious deficit in my biological makeup, I excitedly purchased an array of blossoms to line the front of our new little home. I happily troweled the dirt, planting my colorful impatiens beside feathery wands of astilbe. After hours of labor, I stood back and brushing soil from my hands, admired the effect I had created. Stunning.
It took only two weeks for me to kill them all. (Click here to read the rest of my essay on Sasee magazine's website!)
Image by: Coy!