A most wondrous event occurred in my life. I grew an avocado plant from a pit.
Throughout my life, my success with anything remotely botanical has been less than nil. That which is green and blossoms is sure to wither under my care. I water, weed and nurture the tender shoots. I even move the planters in and out of the sun. But alas, the writing is on the spade. The plants are destined for an early death and consignment to the compost pile (in someone else’s backyard).
I have often wondered what makes a successful gardener. What mystical quality results in a green thumb, the highest accolade that is bestowed upon such people? Since my own thumb looks quite ordinary, I certainly can’t answer the question.
Oddly enough, this deficiency in my character actually bothers me.