I cannot grow anything. My history of plant life carnage is long and torrid. I kill absolutely everything. I’m incapable of keeping a plant alive. The last plant that flourished at my hands was some kind of fern that I had in my dorm room in college and I think that was because I had it sitting on top of the heater next to a window. It received a magical combination of constant warmth, sun and beer. On our first year anniversary David and I bought a rubber plant as a symbol of our growing and eternal love for each other. I killed it within two years. I’m glad to report that our marriage has fared much better. I love to cook and so have been determined to grow my own herbs. I’m on my seventh year of trying and I still have not managed to keep any herb plants alive past June. Suffice it to say I am to plants what Britney Spears is to good mothering.

This year I wanted the kids to have the joy of growing their own food. I tried to set expectations very low by explaining that plants take a very, very long time to grow and sometimes we never actually get any food out of them. So, I stuck to things that I thought would be easy. We planted strawberries, tomatoes, basil and cilantro. (That’s right, still trying to grow my own herbs.) Things started strong and then we got a late-spring freeze that I wasn’t expecting and my basil leaves turned black and my tomato leaves got a wee bit brown. I soldiered on and surprisingly one day we found A singular strawberry growing. Well, we have vigilantly watched, protected and nursed that one wee strawberry along and finally today it seemed ripe for the pickin’. Lucy proudly picked the strawberry, we washed the strawberry and we ate the strawberry. It was tart. I would like to exclaim to the world that I, Beth Morley, can indeed grow something!