Wanted: A Green Thumb

Walking past the neatly trimmed yards of a neighborhood, driving past the fields of wildflowers across this country, shopping at stores with baskets of fresh fruits and vegetables, the smell of freshly tilled soil, to quote an old song "These are a few of my favorite things."

All of my life the thrill of seeing these marvels of nature has filled me with immense joy, and pity.

Self-pity. I have a "brown" thumb.

My first gardening experience was way back in first grade. The Teacher gave each student a square plastic container, some potting soil and a bean seed!

We decorated the container with drawings of sunshine and rainbows to inspire our plants, boldly marked our names for all to see, filled the boxes with the soft, cool, brown dirt, then lovingly planted the bean inside.

Days later, happy little sprouts were springing up from many of the pots. The Teacher told the rest of us we just needed to be patient, some beans need more time.

More days later and all the beans were growing into giant dark green stalks except one...mine.

There was my little pot with a light green sprout, sadly folded over looking at the dirt. I do love the dirt…the fresh smell …Perhaps this lil bean was telling everyone that I had sniffed all the nourishing goodness out of the dirt, to my embarrassment and dismay the other students laughed mercilessly.

I was raised in beautiful cities all over the world with green parks and community gardens. As the child dependent of a United States Navy sailor, the idea, nay, the dream of yards, gardens, even potted plants are not common aspirations in such a transient world. Yet, Every new tour I hoped for a yard to plant a garden, or a room of my own to keep a houseplant.

My second attempt at growing something green came with my first apartment.

"A Pothos", the experts said, "get a Pothos, everyone can keep a Pothos alive."

I found one at the local market, it's smooth, shiny, heart shaped leaves seemed to say "Hi, friend take me home, I'll be green and pretty forever."

I took it home, spoke to it daily, lovingly watered it only as instructed, and three months later it was a shriveled, stringy, dry vine in a box. I cried, I had lost a friend.

For years after that tragic plant murder, I decorated my home with plastic flowers in vases, silk trees in baskets, even wax fruits and vegetables in large bowls, anything to have the semblance of Mother Nature's bounty near me, without the heartbreak of killing another living thing.

"Maybe someday I can try again," became my mantra, gradually building some hope and confidence inside myself.

I read as many gardening manuals as I could get my hands on, watched how-to’s on YouTube, spoke to every person whose garden I admired…they were all kind and filled with advice…slowly but surely my confidence grew.

My partner ( he with a pair of magnificent green thumbs, confidence in my new knowledge, and a strong desire to support my dream) and I bought a piece of property in Napa County, California. The breadbasket…okay the wine barrel of America. Everything grows in Napa.

There are hundreds of vineyards with thousands of acres of grapes. At the end of each row of grapes are companion flowers, fragrant roses and climbing azaleas. Between harvests there is the tall, grassy, bright yellow mustard. Mother Nature at her most beautiful, gardening at it's glory.

Here, Weekly Farmer's Markets showcase the array of vegetables grown here, even weeds such as Star Thistle and Dandelion are magically turned into honey. The nearby Orchards display their fruit and nuts.

I am nuts, but I do want to try again, because I have an acre of California's richest dirt, and I want, no I must go for a third attempt at growing something, I'd never forgive myself if I didn't at least try, I mean even the "Black Market" folks have a flourishing "weed" business here.

The gal at the nursery says she will help me get set-up

(is that foreshadowing?)

(Stop now, be confident) and she talks me into the "easy" plants.

Kale, lettuce, cabbage, green and red onions I will start by seed.

Strawberries, tomatoes, green peppers, and yes even the dastardly green bean… these already six inches tall! (bigger than my old bean ever got to be)

I've got this! I really have got this!!! Remember all the advice…

I put the dirt from my yard into canvas pots so the sneaky gophers don't eat the roots.

I have bright colored ribbons and whirly-gigs hanging from the stakes identifying the plant-to-be and frightening the hungry birds.

I even keep my trashcans all the way in the front yard, far, far away from my budding backyard farm so the local possums, skunks and raccoons aren't tempted to sneak in either.

Spring turns to summer, the tomatoes and strawberries are just about red, the lettuce, cabbage, and kale are leafy and oh so close to ready, the beans and green onion tops are straight and tall!

Tomorrow!!! Yes tomorrow, I will harvest them and make myself a salad of all these wonderful things that have grown just for me, in MY garden!

I fall asleep to the exciting visions of my new abilities and I am so proud to have reversed the horrible history of murderous brown thumb.

I awake early, prepare my clippers and baskets, and walk out to…

(GASP!)

...nubs of stalks, empty trellis sticks… crushed canvas bags filled with only dirt...

what happened? Where are my beautiful plants?

There are no neighbors nearby to steal them,

I know I wasn't dreaming. I have photographs recording the growth…

What could have happened?

I fall to the ground in tears, heavy sobs of loss and grief…

and that is when I see the answer, rather I feel the answer.

I am in a pile of what appears to be black jelly beans?

My partner, having heard my screams and sobs runs to see what the problem is…

He tries not to laugh… I am kneeling in the left overs of my garden …in the form of a

…Thank you?

Yes, it is droppings from the local deer.

Aargh