Green Thumb, Black Thumb

My mama, more commonly known as “Grandmama” (please read with a French accent), has a green thumb.  She grows all manner of plants, and they flourish.    (yes, my real mama).

She loves to have her hands in the dirt.  (So would that make her a black thumb?)

Flowers make her happy, fresh flowers on the table make her ecstatic!

When she had a house, and then a garden apartment, she had beautiful flowers surrounding her.

On the other hand, my sister, brother and I have true black thumbs.

And it’s spread all over our chests! AAAAUUUUUGGGHHHH!!! We’re rotting!!

I’m a tad so dramatic.

Anyhooo, as kids we tried to grow veggies.  Never worked, NEVER!

I wonder if it had something to do with Brother pulling them up to see if they were growing???

Naaah, that couldn’t be it.

Granny Chaney gave me African violets after I got married.  One by one they bit the dust.  Then she gave me a Purple Passion plant. (yes, it’s a real plant! Google it.)  Surprise, surprise! (not) it died.

Finally, in exasperation, she gave me a cactus, declaring “Now, I know you won’t kill this.”

Who knew?????  Watering a cactus kills it.  Color me surprised.

I have a black thumb.  So, I’m the Death Angel for plants.  I’ve accepted it.

So, if you were planning to send me a plant, go ahead and kill it, and send me the obituary.

RIP all the plants past….