Picture Shenanigans: Day 2 - My Green Thumb
I'm going to throw out some phrases for you to think about:
Perfectly landscaped backyards; lovingly cultivated raised-bed organic heirloom vegetable gardens; urban homesteads complete with a small chicken coop and a rooftop beehive; beds full of gorgeous, unusual native perennials...
For some, these phrases invoke feelings of calm and peace. Maybe you've just been inspired to go pull the few stray weeds from your herb garden or sit in a reclaimed antique wooden rocking chair on your porch enjoying a freshly squeezed glass of lemonade while you watch the sun set. Or maybe the words above give you feelings of longing. Maybe they have inspired you to break into your neighbor's gorgeous backyard and sit on their
Crate&Barrel patio set enjoying a beer. (Don't worry, they're at a Memorial Day barbecue and you have plenty of time before they get home.) Maybe you are experiencing feelings of rage and inadequacy. (It's ok, let it out.)
If you are anything like me, you will agree with the latter statements. I love an amazingly landscaped yard. I love planters and beds full of color and scent. I
yearn for it and try year after year to come one step closer to
anything remotely like these things. I have recently discovered something about myself: I
fricking hate gardening. Oh, and to top it off, I really suck at it.
Evidence:
Me: How would you describe my plant-tending abilities?
Mr. Sty: I would say you have the anti-green thumb.
Me: I've kept that aloe plant alive...
Mr. Sty: Yeah, it was already full-grown and able to live in nothing but rocks when you got it, so...
I have decided to make my anti-green thumb the subject of Day 2 of the 30 Day Picture Shenanigans.
This is a rosebush. Was a rosebush. A friend was doing a major landscaping overhaul and gave me some perennials, including this rosebush. I have always wanted a rosebush. You can see in this photo that I placed (not planted) it in a planter by my front step, where over the course of 2 months it crusted up into a dead twig. Please also note that this planter was NOT purchased in some great gardening effort, but rather blew into our front yard last year during a particularly nasty storm.
This is a hanging basket which last year contained an ornamental kale (that thing that looks like a bath loofah) and some other random crappy annuals. I never took it down. The other day my neighbor's 5-year-old daughter looked at it and said, "Um, do you think maybe you should buy some other flowers to go in there? Because, you know, that thing is dead." I resisted the urge to yell. She is named after a flower, by the way.
This is my backyard. "Why does it look like you haven't mowed your grass in weeks?" I'm glad you asked! Because we haven't. It's like a jungle. I had to give my daughter a machete so she could hack a path to the swingset. Let me list some of the delightful things that I've managed to cultivate during the last 5 years: overgrown bushes planted by the previous owners, irises and day-lilies that would bloom even if they were on fire, burdock, an impressive supply of stinging nettle, buckthorn, mulberry, Virginia wintercreeper, massive thistles, and a sedum in a planter which was a gift from my mother when we moved in and continues to come back every year despite the fact that it gets no attention whatsoever. (That ball will probably stay there all summer.)
This is another part of the backyard. This climbing beast is a hop vine. The thing is out of control. I had nothing to do with this. Please note my attempt at laying down weed-control fabric and mulch in this bed. It looked nice for about two minutes. Apparently pet pigs like to root in, oh I don't know, EVERYTHING!
This is a tiny little bed right next to our deck. What's that you say? It looks like a clusterfuck? Oh, but it is! This little 4x4ish area contains rhubarb, a peony, day-lilies (those are apparently hard to get rid of), irises, VWC, mulberry (also a pain in the ass to eradicate), thistle, and creeping charlie (actually, our entire lawn in the back consists of more creeping charlie than grass).
I know what you're saying by now. If I just put a little work into it, everything would be fine! Well, let me tell ya, my enthusiasm for gardening lasts about one week. People bestow gifts of plants upon me. I (sometimes) plant them. I nurture them for a week. They die. Or, if they don't immediately die, they don't return next year. I think they might pack up their shit and hightail it to the other side of the fence where the grass is always greener (or where grass exists at all) and the fertilizer flows like wine.
This is an apple tree. A Prairie Spy, to be precise. It was grafted especially for me at an heirloom apple orchard almost a month ago. "Why does it appear to be inside?" I'm glad you asked. Because it is. When it was just a twig I put it in a glass of water with aspirations to plant it that weekend. (Ha! That's hysterical.) Then it started growing, which I'm rather proud of, except I know it's not getting any nutrients from nasty water and a sheet of Bounty, so I fully expect it to shrivel up and die before we ever get around to digging a hole for it.
Look at it tower from the kitchen table...
I feel the need to include pictures of some plants that I have not killed. In the foreground is a jade plant. This was given to me by my mother, a cutting from her
fricking gigantic jade. (My mom can grow anything. She just looks at shit and it grows.) I nearly killed that jade in less than a month. All of its leaves and branches fell off until it was down to one main stalk and two leaves. My mom came over and had a conversation with it and now it's slowly growing again. The middle plant is a Christmas cactus. It is covered in dust and I don't think it has ever bloomed. I have knocked it down the staircase multiple times. It is still alive. I love it. The last plant is some weird vine that grows in a vase of water. This was also given to me by my mother. The original vine died, so she gave me another cutting. I was so proud when this one lived. My mom was babysitting my daughter frequently at that time. One day when I mentioned how super-fricking-awesome I was at keeping that stupid plant (that
doesn't even need dirt) alive, she admitted that it had actually completely died
again without me noticing and she had brought over an entirely new cutting. Apparently plants that live in water need water.
This is the aforementioned aloe plant, given to me by a friend whose aloe grows so well that she sprouts new ones from pieces of the old one and sells them. It is literally growing in fish tank gravel. I've only had it for a month. Enjoy it now, I'll probably manage to kill it.
This is my hibiscus. "But why does it look like that big fucking tree is in your living room?" I'm glad you asked! Because it is. If I put it outside, it blows over as soon as the wind picks up past 2mph. This was also donated to me by my mother because "this damn thing just grows too much! It's huge and continually makes gorgeous, fragrant, peach-colored blossoms! I pruned it back, yet it grows and grows! I'm sick of it!" Seriously, Mom? Seriously? So now it's mine. (I'd like to think that I rescued it, but let's be real.) It is not huge and thriving, but it is not yet dead. I have had it for a year. Just yesterday I remarked about how it is still living and my mother said "Hmm...yep, not dead yet."
Check it out! The thing even has a
fricking bud! (Although it looks a little bit like my tree is trying to sprout rolls of sushi ginger, which just makes me hungry for spicy crab rolls.)
My daughter and I read a book about Georgia O'Keefe today, so this is a picture of an iris that may or may not actually be symbolic of some body part. You're welcome.
In closing, I feel the need to include this last picture. My daughter was painting while I wrote today. She had absolutely no idea what the subject of this post was.
She finished and proudly described the painting to me (emphasizing the bright flowers, clean birdbath, and short grass) then said, "Mama? I want our yard to look like that." You and me both, kid.
