green thumb lacking

Every so often I kid myself and tell inner cartoon me that yes, we'll just have to get cracking on that garden one of these days. Y'know, once it's warm enough. Once I'm not lazy. Maybe next year. And then I try and my enthusiasm lasts for about twenty four hours. I kill things without trying. I didn't used to. As a kid, I resented the hell out of being put in charge of the rose garden, the daffodils, and keeping the camelias alive. [I. Miss. My. Old. House. So. MUCH!] And yet at the same time, I adored the time outside by myself where it wasn't weird to be alone. I hated being woken up at the asscrack of dawn the moment my father decided it was spring, though. On my watch things didn't die unless some jackass mowed them down with the lawnmower. Granted there was also Dad in the background bossing me around, so that probably had much to do with it.

And yet I now have the desire to grow things and the complete and utter lack of an attention span that makes it damn near impossible. ARGH. So who wants to enable my "oooh, shiny!"-ness?

*toddles off to forage for food*

Sonali!

It's been awhile, so you may need a refresher course.

( In case you forgot... )

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