If genetics were the sole predictor of having a green thumb, I would have the greenest.  When my mother was growing up, her father (my grandfather) owned a flower shop on Chocolate Avenue in the idyllic town of Hershey Pennsylvania.  The flower shop was in their home, so you could say my mother and her siblings grew up with flowers. My uncle eventually owned the flower shop when my grandparents moved out to the country and bought a farm.  So when I was young, my mother worked part-time in her brother’s flower shop and I went along with her.  I loved the chill of the flower coolers and exploring the wonderful smells.  My sister, cousin and I would play “flower shop” through the window in the back room, writing out pretend receipts and arranging pretend bouquets.  The flower shop eventually closed, and the house was torn down to make way for the booming tourist business in Hershey. But my exposure to flowers and planting continued.  My mother is an excellent gardener!  So are both of her brothers and her sister.  So are my cousins and my sister.  My mother can name every plant or flower she comes across and can tell you whether it needs to be planted in the shade or the sun.  She spends leisurely mornings and evenings watering, weeding, and strolling along the perimeter of her property tending to all of her plants.  When she renovated her home, she had a “garden room” built with shelves for her indoor plants along the expanse of windows, a sink and a sloped floor with a drain.  This room is the hub of her home. 

Don’t get me wrong, I have an ingrained appreciation for beautiful plants and flowers. I have an artistic eye for flower arrangements and planters.  I can name many plants and flowers and have a basic knowledge of which plants thrive in the shade and which need full sun.  But I do not love working outside in the dirt.  I have no interest in spending my weekends planting, weeding, trimming or pruning.  I can barely keep a few potted flowers alive all summer.  I have killed every houseplant that has been brought in my home, even ones that my mother swears are super easy to care for.  I love having beautiful landscaping, but I learned many years ago that I am just not the gardening type.  

But oh have I tried.  I have attempted to embrace and fall in love with gardening.  In May every year I fill at least one, usually three or four, pots with flowers.  When I lived closer to my mother, it was our annual tradition to go to a local garden shop and pick out flowers for my pots.  When I lived in a row home in the city of Lancaster Pennsylvania, I had fantastic window boxes, beautiful pots on my sunny front stoop and more on my shaded back patio.  They remained beautiful until mid-July when I couldn’t water them enough to keep them green and blooming. 

From the city we moved to the suburbs, and I was positive that I was ready to tackle the domesticity of gardening. The next home we purchased had gorgeous flower beds in the front yard with peonies and hostas. This home had a fish pond and more flower beds in the backyard. There were raised beds along the side filled with herbs and strawberries.  The previous owners obviously took much pride in their landscaping. I could do this right?  I planted tomatoes and cucumbers at this house my first summer there. I harvested the mint and made mojitos. I planted basil and ate it with my tomatoes and fresh mozzarella in delicious caprese salads. And then I stopped. I struggled to regularly weed the flower beds. All of the herbs died. The chipmunks ate the strawberries. It took us weeks to mulch the expansive flower beds. It was WAY too much yard for us!

One would think I learned my lesson after our suburban home. Our next home was on three quarters of an acre in the woods. It was also beautifully landscaped (although overgrown when we moved in). Our first year there we tackled the massive project of our yard. We had six massive pine trees taken out of the front yard. The back yard formerly had an in-ground pool that had been filled in years earlier, but now was in much need of an overhaul. We begged the help of family to rid the yard of pool evidence and constructed a new patio. We pulled out overgrown bushes, cut overhanging limbs, weeded, mulched and worked on our yard. That was the first year. After that our outdoor gardening pursuits gradually tapered off,  until we finally hired professional landscapers to handle it for us. 

Our move to Virginia brought some much-needed clarity. Even though I was drawn to looking at homes on nice corner lots with well-manicured landscaping, my husband wisely reigned me in. And I agreed with him. We are not weekend yard warrior type of people. We don’t enjoy it and are frankly not that good at it. We have a lovely little postage stamp sized yard with small, easily maintained flower beds. I planted three reasonable pots of flowers that have so far (fingers crossed) survived the Virginia heat. We now know our limits when it comes to gardening. Even though I’m still secretly hoping genetics kick in and I develop a green thumb, I vow to not take on too much yard.