Slice #17, My Green Thumb

 I'm choosing to explore my identities this month, focusing on a different angle of me each day. 

Today, a slice on being a gardener.

I wrote a beautiful poem once about my grandfather and his garden.  He died before I was ever old enough to have my own space for gardening, but perhaps my green thumb is his somehow.   It definitely wasn't from my parents.  They grew nothing but grass.  

Gardens have spoken to me since childhood.  There is a story my parents tell where I snuck out of the house early in the morning before anyone woke.  They found me playing in my aunt's cornfield.  I've always liked dirt and being dirty, small (cute) bugs, and time outside.  Let's not forget the sun!  Just typing these things 'fills my cup.'

As an adult, gardening has come to mean much more.  I find the winters (especially here in Missouri) particularly difficult.  The dark and lack of outside time highly impact my energy and mood.  So, when mid February arrives, and I can start my spring seeds, I get the tiniest (but much needed) boost to see a little bit of dirt and green in my daily routine.  

Last weekend, those seeds made it to the beds in my front yard.  I keep checking on them each morning, hoping the still in the 30s temps aren't killing them.  So far, they are thriving!

Today, St. Patrick's Day!, seems a good day to put my green thumb to use and get my potatoes in the ground.  It's in the 20s with the wind chill today, but I'm still smiling, thinking that spring is just around the corner.