Green Fingers

A while ago Hilary opened our discussion at house group with an ice breaker: 'Are you green-fingered?'

It wasn't something I'd considered until I heard other people's tales of woe. Some murdered plants with neglect. Others with kindness. 

Whereas my plants and I have a live-and-let-live attitude to one another.  They tend to just get on with growing and every so often  I propagate from them. 

I also tweak cuttings from the gardens of stately homes and often they sprout roots.

My proudest moment was when Nigel gave me a single red rose and I accidentally rooted it.

But best of all are the plants that remind me of somebody else. 

A number come from Nigel's mother's garden; many more from my father's. 

Then there's the rosemary bush from Jane and the Solomon's seal from Alison.

In return, I give away bright rudbeckia and fragrant oregano.

So maybe having green fingers is no more than treading the path between kindness and neglect - and not thinking about it too much.