I am a recovering plant killer.

Back in the eighties I had a few abundant gardens. I studied the Mother Earth News. I learned to can. There are photos of me with a cornucopia of produce cradled in my bosom.

But those are the glory days. Since then my once-green thumb has blackened. The only successes of the past ten years in my plant world are 1) a flourishing bamboo stalk in the kitchen and 2) a very stubborn rosemary bush in my otherwise barren flower bed. Now, a toddler could keep a bamboo plant alive, so that's no cause for bragging. And the rosemary bush - I suppose the universe uses the existence of this plant to remind me that Miracles Happen.

This year is going to be different, I swear.

So far the boyfriend and I have let several seedlings die on our watch. Undaunted, I keep buying organic fertilizer and transplanting an ever-increasing bunch of herbs and vegetable plants. I am determined to beat this curse, even though the demise of bees and the growing drought are not in my favor.

We have over a dozen living plants as of this morning. We also are suddenly aware that the wildlife population - including moles and slugs - is quite healthy.

Damn.

So my new persona will not be Plant Killer... soon I will morph into Mole Killer.

As Roseanne Rosannadanna said, it's always something.

NTD