My parents are keen gardeners, especially my mother. In my youth, she had tried to get me to garden, believing that you can’t really know how to cook until you ‘feel’ plants. I had always cried off, citing my lack of green fingers. I bailed out of helping my parents in the garden.
And then this summer, Woy started growing vegetables on our small patio in old wine crates. I had scoffed at him, telling him that the delicate stems would die, that we’d forget to water them, that they’d get eaten by bugs, etcetera, etcetera. My helpful neighbour told him the crates would rot away because he didn’t coat them with some waterproof paint (which he didn’t want to as it will get into the veggie) and that the roots would rot because there are no holes at the bottom of the crates.
But he ignored us and carried on in his sweet way. He talks to the plants, much to our amusement. My neighbour told me he heard Polish conversations late one evening and saw Woy crouched over the vegetables, talking to them. “Haha,” my neighbour laughed. “He was generating carbon dioxide alright.”
And then the vegetables started growing. They grew strong and vibrant in a space of weeks. I noticed he pours rice water over them. He puts strands of my fallen hair into the soil. He jokes that his mother told him to pee on it (I baulked in horror and vowed not to eat the salads). We had our first harvest (still waiting for the endamame) from the two humble boxes.
“Investment banker with green fingers, hey?” I teased.
He flushed with pleasure. “No, don’t think so. I’ve never grown anything before, but this time, I want to do this.”
So yes you can, even if you don’t have green fingers (maybe there is no such thing). I think only intention to nurture counts ❤
Good activity to share with children and loved ones 🙂