Despite having family members who can make plants grow with tropical abundance, I have two thumbs that are the depressing brown of wilted leaves. I am where plants go to die. At least I was. Now that I’m working on letting go of some of those old ways of defining myself, I have decided to embrace the inner gardener I know must be hiding in some corner, however remote, of my soul. Besides, Scarlett is young enough not to realize how green-thumb challenged I am and just knows she loves to be outside. Her Bampa is one of those folks with the magic touch, so he has set her up with her own first gardening set including tools, seeds, and everything to get started. We put all the stuff on the kitchen table (a ten year gap between to
ddlers has addled my brains), and dug in. The mess was epic but the results were encouraging. We set them on the back porch, watered them with her tiny watering can, and kept watch on them every day. And, truly miraculously, a few tiny, brave sprouts are peeking through their dirt covering. We did it! We’re gardeners! Well, maybe Scarlett is a gardener and I just helped. Either way, green things I planted are in the world now. Jill Mitchell’s A Garden shows creatures, in adorable form, you can find in the great outdoors. She doesn’t show how the garden got grown in the first place. That’s the information I really need.http://www.amazon.com/dp/1862020108/ref=nosim/?tag=yasni-20
http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/1096481
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