My Black Thumb Strikes Again

Autumn is one of my favorite times of year. Crisp air turns noses red, dense fog blankets the earth and hovers over the river. Leaves turns brilliant hues of yellow, orange and red. Homes are decorated with pumpkins, gourds, corn stalks and hay bales. Crunching footsteps tromp through piles of dry leaves. Children chatter about their Halloween costumes, and the smell of pumpkin pies and warm, spiced cider waft through the air. I can almost feel the heat on my face from the crackling fire in the fireplace, flames dancing over a log, casting shadows on the pages of my book as I read nearby.

In Spokane, the metamorphosis from Summer to Autumn occurs almost overnight. One week, sweat rolls down my back, soaking into my shirt from triple-digit weather. The next week, frost covers the green grass, and I'm scraping car windows before I take kids to early morning seminary.

But by ten in the morning, the weather is perfect. 65 degrees F. Vivid blue sky with puffs of clouds and a brilliant sun brightening the day. It's the kind of weather that makes me want to go outside and do something.

Courtesy of: http://parkseed.com

Today, I only had two appointments, which means I had a few hours without (gasp!) anything to do.  So, I went outside for the first time since...well, who are we kidding? It's the first time all year. And, it's October. Ahem. Anyway, I went outside. To do yard work. I'd had a box of Red Hot Poker plants my sister had given me two months ago. They'd been sitting in the dilapidated cardboard box, slowly dying, changing from deep green, to pale green, then to tan, and a few of the stalks were now brown and brittle.  I'd walked by that pathetic, wilting box several times a day going to and from my car with my kids. I'd scurry from therapy sessions to school, seminary, church, and everything in between, promising myself I'd plant those poor flowers tomorrow. 

Tomorrow was today.  I grabbed a shovel, drug the box with my half-dead plants over to the side of the house where it gets the most sunlight during the day. I cleared out all the weeds vines, and debris from a year's worth of neglect, and planted those darned plants. 

As I stood, staring at the side of my house, dotted with green, wilting stalks, I shook my head.  It'll be a miracle if these poor things survive the winter.  Heck, who are we kidding? It'll be a miracle if they survive a week. Especially with my black thumb. But at least they have a fighting chance. Something they weren't getting in that stupid box!

I went into the garage and put away my shovel, lamenting over how I'd managed to neglect another set of plants. As I opened my front door, I glanced at the rock garden where my rose bushes used to be, and spied an itty bitty little purple stem from a burgeoning rose bush! The very same plant I've uprooted
four times, placed landscape tarp over, and then covered with about 2,000 lbs of rock. And yet somehow, this tenacious little plant has found it's way to the sunlight again. 

I think I snorted. I guess if that thing can survive me intentionally trying to kill it, my Red Hot Pokers have a chance at surviving my unintentional murderous tendencies. Either that, or I'm going to have to put a cape on that little rosebush, because that bugger has super powers!