Our garden is nothing huge or fancy. It is about 4' by 1.5', and has a couple of tomato plants and a bird bath.
As you can see, it's cute, but a little empty, and we had some extra seeds lying around the house, so we decided to spruce up the edges with some flowers.
We decided that since we had to mow around the edge of the pot, and so we wouldn't pull it out when weeding, we would plant the seeds in a coffee container. We gathered up some soil, the packet of seeds, and the coffee container and set out to grow us some pretty, pretty flowers.
I took the growing of the flowers as a kind of redemption for all of the other plants I had killed in my lifetime. Like with each bud, each petal, a past gardening sin would be erased. I slaved over the coffee cup, waiting, watching, talking to it, making sure it had water and plenty of sunlight. It became a terrible waiting game.
Then one day, it sprouted. The sprout was like a tiny green leafy fist pointed defiantly to the heavens. I was overjoyed. I had grown something. Not just a pre-potted plant, but from a seed. I had done it (albeit with Brad's help, but he's great at growing stuff, so that doesn't count).
Days turned into weeks, and I wondered why the plant was getting taller, but not bushy. Then two months passed, and the plant that was supposed to turn into a beautiful bunch of flowers, just turned into a vine. Eventually, I noticed that the plant in the coffee container looked suspiciously like the ivy that taken forever to clear out from around the house.
That's right, instead of a thing of awesomeness, I was growing a weed. Worse than a weed, a destructive thing of ivy. I was crushed.......
Then I thought about it. I had nursed and grown that ivy vine from a sproutling. Not just that, but it was flourishing. Maybe my thumb isn't green just yet, but, by God, it is at least teal.
I feel like there is some deeper meaning here, but it's game night, and Brad promised me ice cream.
mmmmmm.....
ice cream.
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