by Amy Bellum

Created on: March 05, 2010   Last Updated: March 10, 2010

When I was about 8 years old, I used to get dropped off at a friend of my Mom's house to spend the day during the summer. I would usually spend time with her children who were also my age, but on this particular day I decided I wanted to help in the garden.

Katie was about 35 years old, and had the patience of a saint. I had never worked in a garden before so I couldn't tell a weed from an actual plant. She attempted to show me the difference, and I said I understood.

I walked down to the far end of the garden and started to pull out the weeds. I weeded for what felt like hours, but was likely only 20 minutes at most. When Katie came down to see what I was doing, she had a horrified look on her face.Apparently, the "weeds" that I was pulling were really watermelon plants that we just starting to grow. They looked like vines to me, so I had no idea that they weren't weeds.

As an 8 year old, the only thing that I could do was say sorry, and haul my butt out of there as fast as I could. That ended my garden experience, and I have not spent time in a garden since. It's funny to look back on now that I'm an adult, but I'm sure Katie didn't think so back then.

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