Black Thumb

My mother had what they call a green thumb: she was a natural with plants. Still is, as far as I know. In my youth, she had a botanical garden in our bay window: geraniums, African violets, Christmas cactus. Other green things.

After I left home, she discovered orchids and performed magic with those as well.

Me? I kill things that are green.

While Steve and I were engaged, he asked me to babysit his jade plant, one he'd inherited from his sister. He was gone for three weeks, during which time I managed to kill it with overwatering. As it got sicker, I watered it more frequently. Those succulent leaves started committing suicide.

Recently, I decided to take a chance on growing an indoor herb garden. You never know, right?

Wisely, I only bought one plant to start with. I should have taken a picture when it was fresh and new. Instead, all I have is this:

We did manage to use fresh basil in a couple of meals before I started overwatering it because some of the leaves were wilting.

You'll see that I have it in a larger pot, so it can drain. I thought that was enough. I was wrong. So now it's in rehab, drying out. I'm not sure which one of us needs to follow the 12-step program, but I plan to watch its drinking habits to keep it out of the drunk tank.

I probably shouldn't offer my services as a house-sitter.