March 19, 1986
Every year at this time I find myself leafing through seed catalouges and admiring pictures of beautiful and plentiful flower and vegetable gardens. In my mind’s eye I can picture my children in the garden learning about the wonders of nature. However, experience has taught me to confine my gardening efforts to my dreams. My thumb does not have even a tint of green.
Actually, my grandfather had high hopes for this gardener. When I was about six years old we spent hours together planting, weeding and harvesting.There were always beautiful flowers for the teacher and fresh vegetables to share with neighbors. I don’t know what happened with the passage of time, but attempts at growing anything have proved fruitless. My window boxes have become rusty, and the garden I tried to cultivate one year is now well blended with the rest of the yard and my children have had to learn about fresh vegetables at the supermarket.
Last year when everyone was on their hands and knees readying the ground for spring planting I did get into the spirit of things and bought a pair of gardening gloves (which the puppy chewed). That took care of last year’s effort.
This year we bought some seeds from the school fund raiser and my youngest is anxiously awaiting their arrival and planning ‘her’ garden. Who knows maybe she’s inherited her great-grandfather’s green thumb and a garden might yet become a reality.