Every Rose Has it’s Thorn

I have been receiving a number of requests to write a blog about gardening and house plants. Here’s the problem: I inherited my dad’s black thumb. My mom can grow any type of plant in any climate. I’m pretty sure she has a rubber tree that she has kept alive for 20 years and has moved cross country in the back of a U-Haul in 100 degree weather. You give me one day with that thing and it will be dead. I have even killed a cactus. My mom’s favorite story is she took a large African Violet she had been growing and split it into three plants (insert technical term for that here). One to keep, one for my sister, and one for me. That night she was talking to the plants, as she does, and told them where they were going while giving them a drink of water. She woke up the next morning to find the one she has re-potted for me was dead. It died of fear. That is how bad I am at growing things.
The only thing I have ever been successful at growing is those little kits that come out every December. You know the ones, you buy them at WalMart and they come with the potting stuff already included, fool proof instructions, and the bulb already has the flower stem sticking out of it by the time you get it home. Recently I grew one such plants. While our affair was brief it was a glimmer of hope for someone like me. I took that genetically modified plant bred to make people like me feel better and I raised it from a misshapen  little bulb into a beautiful flower. Of course I forgot about it in the pantry until it was already half grown and the only reason it was ever watered was because it was an unusually rainy season in Southern California and I had put it outside so the cats didn’t eat it. It bloomed delicate little flowers that I completely took all the credit for until I moved to my new home in Orange County and abandoned it. My mind often wanders back to those few happy days we spent together, blissfully unaware of how abruptly it would end. The days I would stumble home drunk and accidentally bump into it. The days the wind would knock it over. The day I accidentally dropped a sock in it while carrying my laundry in the apartment. I wonder what my life would be like today if I still had that plant. I wonder if it remembers me. I wonder if someone else is taking the credit for those little white specks of joy I so lovingly nurtured. While it’s hard, I must move on. I must not dwell on the past, no matter how wonderful it was…


2 comments on “Every Rose Has it’s Thorn

  1. I have a little plant and I always give her water…

  2. Charles says:

    Actually, I have a brown thumb………………..

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