Black Thumb

I’m a repeat offender—plantslaughter. Over the past twenty years, herb gardens, tulips, tomato vines, simple domestic indoor plants, and even a rose bush have all fallen victim to my proclivity for violence. I don’t mean to kill. It’s just that I suffer from a debilitating disease—Black Thumb. No matter how much I try to turn my thumb green, it remains a black, murderous appendage that strikes any unsuspecting green friend without warning.

When I was about twelve, I embarked on my first gardening adventure. I tried to plant a tulip garden. The package said it was easy, and that my new garden would continue to provide me with joy, season after season. Perfect! I planted the bulbs in late autumn just as the package directed. Anxiously, I awaited their springtime blooms—but nothing came. I waited until mid-summer, thinking they were just like me—late bloomers—but in actual imitation of me, none of them showed up. I was disappointed, but not discouraged. I dug into the soil where I’d planted the bulbs, and they were nowhere to be found. I dug deeper and deeper. Nothing. What the heck? They had disappeared. I decided they’d disintegrated into the soil. My mother (a champion gardener) suggested that squirrels might have gotten to them. All I know is, they were never seen or heard from again. I’d killed them before they even bloomed.

In college, when I got my very first apartment, I wanted an herb garden. I didn’t really cook, but every adult woman I knew had an herb garden in her kitchen, and it looked incredibly grown-up. So, being well on the way to adulthood myself, I bought an herb garden containing seeds for rosemary, basil, thyme, and sage—pretty standard, hearty herbs that I could use with anything. I planted each small pot, following the directions on the “easy, do-it-yourself” care sheet: water; place in sunlight; watch it grow. Done. Within a week, a couple of green sprouts showed their eager heads above the soil. Victory! Each herb grew to about four inches, just as the instructions said it would, and started sprouting leaves. I knew I could do this! I was on my way to at least a pale green thumb. I used some of the newly grown basil, and then I got so excited, I forgot to water the plants for a week. They died a quick death in the direct sunlight from my kitchen window.

When I moved in with my boyfriend, we decided to get a houseplant. I was sure that simply maintaining an already living, leafy green plant would be easy.