Some dirt

I have a new hobby. Gardening. They say we become our parents, and I really think I am. If there was anything I hated to do when we were growing up, it was weeding. I remember thinking that my mother truly was out to ruin my life if I had to spend a Saturday weeding (in reality I'm sure it was about 30 minutes on a Saturday, it just felt like the entire day). Now, I am planting more plants in my garden. Maybe it's being over 30 and realizing that I am simply... not cool. I have lost all coolness I might have had and there's no hope of gaining it back so I might as well feed my inner little old lady. (An aside: At the hospital we used to note "LOL" for a patient that was a little old lady in the pre-blogging days. Many of those patients weren't lol! But I digress...)
Today I planted 4 daisy plants, a watermelon, canteloupe, and two tomato plants. I have a grapevine almost ready for planting as well. (Since I know I won't win any awards for amazing produce at the fair, I thought I'd go for the most eclectic garden.) Maybe it's owning my own home, but I could spend hundreds of dollars on flowers and plants, many of whom would not survive their childhood under my watch.
Therein lies the problem. I love plants, and teh idea of growing my own food is so appealing to me. Maybe it's the third grader in me, wanting to see the seed produce a little green shoot in my styrofoam cup. However, care of plants and animals has never been my strong suit. My friends in our Former City, Michelle and Sara, are amazing. Their own hands actually produce things you can eat. That's my goal. I'm not hoping for prize winning tomatoes, I'm just hoping that I will have at least one measly item in 80-84 days (that's what the package said) that I could throw in a salad, so I can wax poetic about my farming roots finally coming out. I'll keep you posted on this one.