I have no green fingers. Give me anything to plant or any plant to care for, and it will die. Unfortunately that is the way it is.
My sisters and Mom and late Dad though all inherited the green fingers gene. My grandfather was even the town’s official gardener. And now my sister has stepped into his shoes.
The only things which grow in my care are herbs. I have always had some herbs at any of the places where we have lived. Sometimes in a garden. Sometimes in pots. And now in my City Flat, I started a little herb garden in an old barbeque stand. It’s small, but it gives me such a sense of peace when I smell the black peppermint when I crush the leaves. Or when I harvest some of my own garden mint for my iced tea or potatoe salad. Love a little mint in my homemade potatoe salad. Brings back memories of growing up, when my mom would make beautiful potatoe salad with some mint in, served with our meat, which my dad would have cooked on the barbeque on a late Saturday afternoon, after he has mowed the lawn. The smell of freshly mowed grass, a barbeque and cool drinks, with the last of the sun setting, to settle into a dark violet velvet summer night, with Dean Martin crooning in the background.
I love fiddling around in my little herb garden. And I also have some inside the flat . Extremely proud of the way my Basil is coming along. Even more satisfying when I use my own fresh Basil in a fresh home made pasta sauce.
Planning to plant lots of Lavender at our little Karoo farm outside our bathroom. I can’t wait.
Now if only my Parsley would play along…..
itsnotalwaysafairytale 