the black thumb
My dad can literally shove a random plant anywhere and it will live. Much to my mothers dismay. But I have a nasty habit of killing almost any plant that it entrusted to my care.
I have always wanted a vegetable patch. Something big, beautiful and thriving with delicious produce I can whip up (In this fantasy world I am also an insanely good cook). Yet for a black thumb such as myself, the vegetable patch dream is something that is far off in a distant and almost unimaginable future. So I stick with herbs.
This rosemary has lived at three houses, only gets watered when it rains and has only recently been re-potted. And yet, here it is, not only alive but loving life. My basil I was certain was well and truly dead but somehow turned itself around. Mint has seen better days and my thyme isn't complaining. But the devil of all herbs is coriander. I freaking love coriander. It makes any meal taste infinitely better. A salad can be transformed from boring into exciting and almost every Mexican dish benefits from coriander. I've tried growing the darn thing THREE times now. Every time it starts off promising. And every time it dies.
So here I am at 27 and one of the most exciting things in my life is the small inside plant I have in my room. Whether my thumb is black, green or skin coloured there really is something magical about growing something, taking care of it yourself and experiencing its beauty (be it produce, flowers or just something to look pretty in the corner of a room).