No, I'm not. Not even close to somebody with a green thumb. As a matter of fact, it's more like I have a black thumb. Withered and dried plants were all what you could see in my small little garden that ended up in the trash after experiencing a slow death even before and after winter.
My husband even called it more of a graveyard than a garden. So to refute his correct impression of a graveyard, I pushed all those pots with dead plants surreptitiously in a corner and covered them with small sacks of dirt on top. Few days after I replanted the pots with new fresh flowering plants then it looked like nothing had happened. Voila! Who would say that I don’t have green thumb. No trace that I couldn't keep plants alive for a long time. Ok that dodge was just my desperate last ditch effort to save my bruised ego and my little garden.
Unfortunately, I didn’t get any of my late father’s magic touch with plants. I remembered how he would rub egg white on the leaves of each plant to make them look fresh and shiny.
He used to grow all sorts of plants from vegetables to flowering ornamental plants and the funny part was that even plastic plants looked real with his care.
Plant needs caring and nurturing hands. I know I'm gifted in that area but apparently not with plants- more with children. But everything can be learned. Soon I can call myself a good gardener. It might take awhile though. Who cares!
In the meantime, I'm basking in the glory and beauty of spring flowers. An Australian writer, Germain Greer once put it "A garden is the best alternative therapy."
And yes, I happen to agree with her.
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