Painting My Black Thumb Green

I love plants. Love, love, love plants. If I could afford it every room in my house would have a variety: fresh cut flowers in my bedroom, ivy along the top shelves in my kitchen, lots of ferns and tropical plants in brightly colored pots everywhere. I'd have a little backyard getaway and a picturesque front yard. Problem is, I kill every plant I get.

Our front yard looks abysmal. There was a large tree out there a couple years or so that got cut down and left an ugly stump. A few months ago my landlord sent a contractor over to grind down the stump. Now there's still a stump in the ground and several feet of barren lawn. There is a garden along the front of the house full of dead plants and weeds and even a new tree trying to grow that all needs to be dug up. The landlord is willing to pay for new plants we put in and my nesting has spread to the yard, like I just can't bear the idea of bringing home a new baby unless I can tolerate the view from the front of the house.

So, after a lot of online reading, I decided I wanted to plant hydrangeas. Today I went and bought six of them. After getting them out of the back of the van and turning on the sprinkler for the kids I was done. No more energy. I sat down for a while and then got out the shovel so I could turn over the soil and see what I was going to be dealing with. Thankfully the soil looks good, obviously commercial grade soil. No clay, thank goodness. The version of me in my mind wants to be outside right now digging up all the dead plants and tilling the garden. The real me is sat on the sofa feeling exhausted, hot and thirsty just thinking about going outside. It is windy today and it was blissful walking with the kids through the outdoor aisles at Lowes - I think they were convinced we were visiting a botanical garden rather than a store, and they enjoyed it too. But even with the wind, it is 80 degrees which might as well be 110 when you are in the third trimester of pregnancy.