A SORT OF YELLOWISH-GREEN THUMB

Compared to my mom who says she does not have a green thumb, but who is the only person I know who can actually inspire a thriving avocado plant to grow from an avocado seed …

And compared to my husband who took a dead fern and nursed it to overwhelming thrivingness and who won the Martha Washington award for growing the best zinnias in town when he was like 16 months old (ok, maybe a little older, but not much) and who one year grew enough lettuce in our backyard, suburban (on the side of a parking lot) garden that he had enough to give to every lady in our church Bible class – which might not seem impressive unless you realize that was about 120 ladies.

Compared to them, I do not have a green thumb – but it’s not an entirely brown thumb, either. I do have a weeping fig tree that I have moved to three states and have actually had longer than either of my kids. I also have two sheffleras that are thriving. But there are a lot of plants that have lived in my house THAT haven’t made it.

One plant I could never grow is a miniature tea rose.  Though I have read that it is about impossible to do so, because greenhouse temperatures are exactly right, as is the moisture. But you always see these fragile-looking beautiful plants around Valentine’s Day and of course, you want to buy one, because by then, everyone is ready for some flowers.

Any how, last year I came in to work on my birthday and there was a miniature rose plant on my desk. My friend had had a dinner at her house the previous Saturday for her son’s birthday and bought the plant to decorate the table.

“Now, you take it,” she told me. “I can’t grow plants.”

So, I left it on my desk. The roses died, but the leaves stayed healthy and about a month later, I had more blooms. We finally decided it was in just the right place, with just the right amount of light. Keeping it alive became an obsession. When I was gone, my friend would care for it. The plant lasted through my trip to Scotland and conference season.

And then suddenly and sadly I learned I was losing my coveted window office. (Worked hard for that office.) Besides knowing I would miss my office so I could watch the snow and the rain, I wondered what would happen to my rose.

Well, it’s almost as if the rose knew it was soon to lose it’s happy home. It grew about nine inches in three weeks and now, nine months later, has once again produced a fragile and beautiful rose.

This picture is not good – I had my inexpensive camera and the battery was going in and out and I took it in a hurry.

But you can see the rose.

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