by Stefanie Kramer

Created on: November 17, 2010   Last Updated: December 03, 2010

History of a "Lime-Green" Thumb

Circa 1979: My two best friends and I come up with an idea to make a little money one summer: start a vegetable garden! We could take our harvest to the Farmers Market for moolah. Dollars and cents fill us with hope. Certainly this will be the start of something big! But after planting the seeds...and the waiting game begins...and the weeds appear, our bright eyes begin to dull as other activities of the summer capture our interest. Even though Mom ends up weeding and harvesting, she still lets us keep the $2.68 we earn from our Farmer's Market sales.

Circa 1987: My college roommate finds my solitary house plant (a Peace Lily perhaps?) in the trash and after a lecture, I’m struck with guilt. I feel like I have just killed a cat. Jean miraculously revives the plant.  Never again will I throw away anything green, unless it’s moldy bread.

Circa 1994: Just married, living in town and I (in my early attempt to prove my domestic worthiness) decide our rental house desperately needs a dose of floral accents. After all, we live next to retired green thumbs with acres of inspiring flower beds, which make our house look pitifully barren. I throw a few petunias, vincas and mums in the ground and voila! They flourish, creating a nice, homey appearance for our now quaint home.

Circa 1995: Move to the family farm. Can't wait to get busy on the vast amount of yard to flaunt my obvious knack for gardening. But something goes amiss. My only successes are the irises, peonies and the quarter mile of rhubarb plants already planted by my mother-in-law. Everything else seems to flounder. What in the heck happened to my green thumb?

After some investigative work, I discover my early horticultural successes had more to do with the sneaky- green- thumb neighbors than my “knack for plants.” They'd come over while I was at work to cultivate, replant and fertilize; and consequently, create my delusional expertise in botany. Imagine my surprise when just about everything I tried to plant died. Even those petunias. Really, who kills petunias?

If anything, the setbacks made me more determined. After all, who doesn't want to live in an aesthetically-pleasing environment? After years of experimentation and talking to real gardeners (including my dear mother), I consider myself, well, a novice really. But I still love it! Undoubtedly, it takes patience. But there’s nothing quite as rewarding when that one flower - whether it’s a Stargazer Lily, a Zinnia, or a Corabelle - comes into bloom and makes you want to visit that particular spot in your walking path, day after day.

As my mom always told me, gardening is wonderful therapy. I never understood her until I became an adult with true obligations. Now I understand. From digging in the dirt to staring at the inspiring beauty of the earth and her offerings, gardening brings me a sweet and tranquil peace. Even for this lime-green thumb. 

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