Apparently, it is not hereditary

My great-grandmother had the most amazing garden. My grandma has gorgeous flowers all over her yard. My aunts, all 5 of them, can make anything grow. Flowers, plants, fruit, veggies, herbs, etc. When my husband and I recently moved, I had grand thoughts of planting tomatoes, hydrangeas, daffodils, pansies, tulips and various herbs. I started collecting magazine articles regarding such endeavors. I conducted internet research. Rather unfortunately, methinks this research was to little or no avail.

On Friday I bought a rather lovely looking basil plant at our local Publix. Thinking it would be wise to start small, I thought raising basil plant would be a good place to start. Perhaps I would soon have enough fresh basil to put a bowl of fresh pesto on our table every week. Perhaps I would have enough basil to give away to friends! Perhaps I would continue my serial plant-murdering streak. By Sunday afternoon my basil plant was looking very pitiful. I gave it more water and put it in a sunny spot outside for a bit and hoped for the best. It is now Monday morning and the sad plant is looking slightly better.

After having spent some time with my aunts recently, I realized how many family traits I have...my eyes, my hair, my complexion. Apparently horticulture isn't hereditary. It's probably all for the best anyway, dirt isn't exactly my friend. Can any of you actually imagine me digging in the garden? The thought is laughable. I believe I will leave the growing up to the lovely folks who supply the produce aisles at Publix.