I’ve never been good at growing plants. Actually, let me rephrase. I’ve never been good at keeping plants alive.
It starts with good intentions. I pick out a hearty looking plant that is the biggest in its pack. I read the instructions and I take it home ready to water it, give it proper sunlight, and nurture it so it can grow. Once in my home things start out well, but quickly disintegrate.
My last parsley plant was dubbed “street parsley” as it was on its own for survival. It sat on the fire escape outside my kitchen window and was left to deal with the severe drought that Charlotte found itself in. My parsley died. It was one of countless, green victims of my ”survival of the fittest” approach to gardening.
Since he is well aware of this particular weakness in me, I was shocked when this year’s Valentine’s Day gift from my husband was seedlings for heirloom tomatoes. Yes, getting heirloom tomatoes is a fabulous gift, but let’s take note of the fact that he gave me seeds. He didn’t want me to keep tomato plants alive, he actually wanted me to grow them. Obviously, he has a weakness for the tragic-comic. This gift had disaster written all over it. Continue reading
