Grey Thumb!

Sadie was now grey, retired into her golden plateau. She had once been a caregiver. That had all passed away, these days she was nurturing herself, sometimes laughing at 'herstory', not 'history'. One of her sisters got in her ear about the holistic benefits of gardening as hobby, potentially growing abundant fresh vegetables in her vegetable patch. A greying cyber pal of Sadie's had also been extolling the glories with his own praises of growing his leafy greens. He was cooking them, and sharing the excess produce with his friends, neighbours and a food pantry nearby. That way, the needy could have some fresh food options. Sadie sat down, sending cyber elbows bumps for all the people who have such green thumbs. She definitely had her own tale to tell of her gardening attempts.

Her coffee was now more than virtual, as she hummed and wrote in her journal, "Lettuce be... I am sitting here sat in her gown, with nowhere else to grow. I chose to wander from that deceased estate to my nice new unit. Yes, it is cool to be a firm believer in healthy eating for greys. So far, my supermarket's vegetable department seems to understand. By choice, one day I noticed some fetching packets of seeds. I bought some, wondering how hard it could be, to grow my own leafy plants."

"So, here I am, dear journal, this is my secret inventory of total failure of my family's green thumb. After all, everyone else is growing fresh vegetables and salad mix. Surely it cannot be rocket science. Basically, growing food and feeding ourselves and others is part of being human. It is cool to donate, alms are for charity. Both my sisters love the soothing essence of nurturing plants till they flourish, and produce oxygen as well. Vital hobby, a different and positive focus for me. It is going to be such good exercise for dear grey Sadie here, engaging my grey matter. I shall thus be part of the great cycle of life on my beautiful planet. I can practically taste fresh salads already, visualizng such a peaceful,healthy and nourishing future bliss.

Sadie sipped more coffee, and kept on writing this covert rendition of some of her aspirations. " Maybe I was more than optimistic. I capably foraged for some flat polystyrene containers, dutifully planted seeds in best soil, added appropriate enhancers, and pest repellant. There I gazed at these boxes in daily monitoring of growth potential, blessed by sunshine and more than a little of my temperate town's rainfall. Soon seedlings appeared, as I imagined hungering for broad beans, baby carrots and lettuces. All things crudite, in fact."

" But, my journal, one briliant sunny morning dawned after the usual sodden Spring rain. No! Catastrophe! If not, life threatening! I learnt the hard way what homeless snails (otherwise titled slugs) really like to eat. I realised that I should have installed an electric fence around my little garden for a grey. But the neighbours would have been dead against it."

" I looked around. The rest of the back yard was not an inspiring view either. Those homeless snails had been very effective, while I was slumbering. Was that all there was, O journal? Weeds! Those weeds I definitely did not plant from packet seeds. Who needs all these weeds? Then I had to get down and dirty with the hoe. This is so not my cup of tea, not being a lesbian bro. Lettuce be, that song is my ear worms today, I decided, as my grass and weeds started to proliferate. It was a jungle right there. Totally the wrong sort of leafy greens were produced by this gardener with a grey thumb. I sincerely hoped that the thyme I planted would take away all my fat slugs and snails, maybe to the garden next door. But that is not being very kind, I consider, dear friend in my journal. I must accept my fate, grey aging and spinal stenosis with my aching feet mean I had to hire a competent gardener, a task expert."

"Yes, that is my experience of my new gardening hobby in my greying years. I suitably retired from this excessive exertion, withdrawing to my lounge room. I sat down, as normal, and browsed at Facebook on my phone. That is now my number one sedentary hobby. I engaged a gardener, a lovely man. Sometimes women need a sweaty man in a ute in their life. Stan the Man Bailey is it. Now I find it hard to suppress my enignmatic sweet and happy smile."

Sadie continued this hidden suburban story. " While Stan the Man was labouring away, tidying, trimming and taming an abundant wilderness into a respectable suburban garden, I decided that Stan the Man was a bit of all right, for his age. Dare I confide this beyond my journal? I invited him to have a coffee late one sunny morning. Stan the Man thanked me by bringing me some most beautiful fragrant blooms he was growing here, just for me. He reassured me that my vegetable boxes were no longer languishing, summer salads shall appear. It was more than a virtual hand from Stan."

"Yes, journal, this story gets better. His eyes twinkled, a spark of attraction was definitely there. I did not stop to decide if bonking my gardener was a stereotype. One caress led to another, sweaty Stan the Man was more than cute, bit saggy round the belly, but still reasonably virile. It is good exercise, inhaling necessary oxygen while snogging behind closed drapes. Let the neighbours ponder why this grey Sadie here has a smile like Mona Lisa!! My gardening attempts to change my grey thumb were abandoned like my knickers. And Stan's. Stan rapidly became my man. We are both flourishing even though our seasons of life have turned, despite our golden youth turning grey. Our soul lights shall fade one day, but this is a love to last eternity, finally. Stan has gone home for the night, to gaze at his gardening shows on his television, and launder his own socks and jocks. Whew, that was quite some beneficial exercise."

"Yes, lettuce be, lettuce be, weeds and homeless snails." Sadie was still writing, wondering if anyone else her age could relate to this gardening disaster, which ended so blissfully. Sadie accepted she had tried to garden with grey thumb. That tale of the desecration of her amibition to produce her home grown leafy vegatables, so healthy and fresh had meant from negatives, positives bloomed. Stan the Man and the supermarket's vegetables still seemed very understanding, quite empathetic, so healthy and fresh.

" Goodnight, dear journal, it is time for a virtual hugs for all of the world's gardeners and farmers, growing food. Thyme takes care of everything for all the greys. Stan and I are still alive, alert and breathing, he is so my Man. I must confide, I have fallen for a handsome stranger. I hope he rakes me up before I hoe, hoe. Lettuce all be..."