My Not-So-Green Thumb

I’m beginning to doubt my plant tending abilities. I try to tell myself that it’s not my fault, there are multiple plants at the office that I am in charge of watering; all of them are green and, dare I say, thriving. The plants I’ve tried to keep in my own personal space (formally my dorm room and currently, my apartment) are another story. When my little pot of cacti died slowly, one at a time (there were several varieties in the planter) I told myself the pot was too crowded or they must have caught a rare and contagious cacti disease. It was rather depressing to know that I had somehow managed to let the most maintenance free plant die in my care.

There were several plants left behind from a former employee at work that I took under my care. I told myself I would wait to make sure they actually lived (they sat in a box for at least a week with no sunlight and water) before I took them back to my place. I didn’t want a dead plant in my first home. Shortly before I moved into my apartment, my sister J bought me a primrose she saw on sale at the local grocery store’s floral department. For obvious reasons (if you don’t know, ask me later) I was a little more attached to this flower than I ever could have been to the cacti. So, I was very conscious of its health. I made sure it got ample light and water, I pinched off the old, dried-up blossoms and almost named it to help its chances of survival. Despite my best efforts, it wasn’t looking very good when I left for home this weekend. When I returned on Sunday evening, the poor thing was beyond the point of no return. So this morning, after an already draining week, I had to throw yet another plant away.

My mom (an avid gardener, whom I watched create beautiful flower gardens every summer when I lived in Wyoming) told me she always had a hard time keeping primroses alive too. Hearing that, my gardening defeat didn’t seem so bad. But still, I want to be able to grow flowers or even fruits and vegetables when I have my own house with a yard. I come from a family of among many things, farmers; you would think, somewhere in my genetic code would be some innate ability to keep plants, at the very least, alive. They don’t need to produce big, colorful flowers or bear bountiful amounts of fruit, at this point, I just want the foliage to be green and healthy. Is that too much to ask?