All I ever grew was weeds. I think partly because it gets so hot and you have to tend the garden, like a lot. When I was young I wasn’t into all that. Even now, I do not get excited about a well manicured lawn. Yea it looks great don’t get me wrong. For me, all I care about is that its cut. That is it.
Now my mom was amazing. She could grow anything. Beautiful flowers. Great looking vegetables. I never felt drawn to be out when it was blistering hot out sweating just to pull some weeds and water them at just the right time. I have no issue with the dirt thing. It’s the blazing summer heat. With my porcelain skin especially now that I am 43 I burn very easily and I do not tan. In fact, I put on sunscreen and have to reapply. Now that I get hot flashes the whole thing seems less appealing to me.
Every now and then, I think about getting one of those wooden things you can stack to plant things. We have clay in our yard and there is no way I am taking a rototiller to that, especially with my fibromyalgia. Besides, then my fiancé would probably insist on doing that and he has enough on his plate.
When I get these urges, I often times say, “I hear ya mom but, that was your thing” Maybe, I just miss seeing all the colors of the flowers and all the vegetables. Not that she had a big farm. But she loved to work out in the yard. Yea, that gene skipped me. Even tho I sometimes thing about it, I know I won’t do it. The reality is I am not my mom. I do not ever remotely have a green thumb. I get no enjoyment from yard work.
If anything, I will be inside writing or working on my crafts. I may be making a mosaic or crocheting/knitting. That is where my heart is. I love creating art. I love the transformation. I will still admire others yards and the beautiful flowers. I will enjoy the memory seeing the hard work will bring me of her. My mom was no stranger to hard work and creating beauty of her own.