No green thumb?

I wasn’t born with a green thumb. I know because I tried growing flowers and vegetables as a kid.

I was fascinated by the colorful seed packets on display at our neighborhood hardware store and bought a few to try. But my zinnias came up as grass, and bugs ate my tomatoes before they could ripen.

My paternal grandmother, with whom I was quite close, had blackberries and figs growing in her backyard. I remember going out to pick some of the luscious-looking fruit one day, only to nearly drop my harvest on the floor when I saw swarms of tiny ants crawling up the sides of the bowl as I came through the door.

My efforts did result in a few delicious (though small) pieces of pecan, but it took a couple of days for my scraped and bloodied fingers to heal.

Given those experiences, I have generally shied away from planting, picking or even watering any form of plant life.

From The Publisher

By Stuart P. Rosenthal

Until the day, I think it may have been ten years ago now, when I was moved to bring home an African violet instead of cut flowers from Trader Joe’s. Actually, there were four tiny plants, each bearing a different color of flower, crowded into one plastic pot.

the thick green leaves remained perky, so I kept up the watering.

Over time, two of the plants died, crowded out by the other two that thrived. And shortly after that, perfect pink and purple flowers occasionally emerged from the survivors.

So energized, one day, I brought home an orchid plant. I had always thought orchids were extremely finicky and hard to raise (as, indeed, they once were). But nowadays, the orchid plants you can pick up at nearly any supermarket are about as easy to care for as my violets.

days, a flower opened on each plant.

It almost felt like a beauty contest or synchronized Olympic sport was underway. But once they all opened, rather than a competition, it felt like more of a symphony.

Eventually, the orchid blooms dropped, but then the purple violets returned, now opening in sync with new pink ones.

Even though all I’ve ever done is water these little guys once a week, they have come to life in each other’s company. Perhaps they even have come to like my company as well. Have I finally grown a green thumb of my own?

I had somewhat better luck with the pecans that dropped all over her backyard from a neighbor’s huge pecan tree. I frequently collected a small paper bag full of pecans and spent what seemed like hours cracking them open with an old-fashioned nutcracker. (It was the kind that looked like fat metal chopsticks joined at one end.)

I thought it would make a nice table centerpiece for a couple of weeks, and then even if it died on me, that would be no worse than a bouquet of cut flowers.

You know where this is going. Placed on a ledge between our kitchen and sunroom, watered once a week, the blooms kept coming for months, with the barest bit of attention from me.

Eventually, the flowering stopped, but

I chose a plant with a few light pink blossoms and several unopened pods, and sure enough, they opened over the following weeks and bloomed for a couple of months.

So, for several years now, at any given time, we were likely to have either colorful violets or delicate orchids decorating our ledge.

This past winter, however, something different happened. Over many weeks, the orchid sent out a new shoot that budded with seven pods.

Soon, I began to notice tiny furled flowers beneath the leaves of our pink African violet. I counted seven of them. Every few

The other day, the Beacon received a press release about a gardening survey that claimed 1 out of 6 people feel “they kill every plant they try to grow.”

I used to think I was one of those folks. Not anymore.

If you are reluctant to try something because of a string of bad experiences in the past, I hope you will recall this column and decide to give it another go.

And if you find success this time, please share your story with us.