The Blackest Thumb in The West

I am really awful at taking care of plants. I so badly want to be good at it.  I know how to be good at it. I come from a long line of people who were effortlessly good at it.  Grandmother A could grow leaves on a broom handle.  Grandmother E (don't question the alphabetization, just roll with it) could force tomatoes to sprout in frozen soil 6 weeks before last frost through sheer outraged will.  My mother, who seems to feed her flower beds a combination of pine needles and neglect, grows hostas big enough to climb. Whatever it is that made and makes these women awesome at growing green things, it clearly skipped my generation.

To my shame, I have killed a series of shrubs and plants since moving to BC.  I blame Neighbour Man, who's gardens are perfectly manicured and well-kempt.  My sad gardens, an attempt to fit in with the glassy-eyed suburbanites Husband has parked me among, are a Bizzaro reflection of his.  His shrubs are lush and glossy because he is a Gardening Robot sent from outer space to shame me publicly on my own street.  My shrubs look full because I have propped hidden twigs inside them in order to keep them from collapsing into sad brown piles of brittle sticks.

It is Fall and you would think that would level the playing field a bit. Not in BC. Here, instead of having the decency to be a season of dry browns and frost-nipped seedpods, the incessant rains turn everything into a verdant Eden filled with lush ferns and rhododendrons. Everything, that is, except for the starving perennials in my garden which go from dry to moldy as the rains soak in. The only saving grace is my lawn, which I take a certain amount of pride in not watering all summer. It turns from yellow to green in a matter of hours and looks every bit as healthy as Neighbour Man's without the watering and mowing and hours spent tweezing weeds.  Weeds grown from the seeds blown there from my only successful crop: dandelions.

A friend of mine 'grows' fake indoor plants and I think I am starting to see the wisdom in that.  I need to find a wholesaler who deals in fake trees, shrubs and perennials.

If even one of you mentions Costco I swear my next dozen posts will be photos of Fritti washing her unmentionables.