Lilac Dreams

Let me start by saying I don't have a green thumb. I have the black thumb of plagued death that can kill even the sturdiest breed of plants and flowers, just by coming within a couple feet. I have planned, dug, raked and planted.

Geraniums, dead.
Daisys, dead.
Pansies, dead.

Some green plant I bought at a local garden center that the salesmen promised would outlive my gardening pitfalls, dead.

All of the flowers my mom, promised me were easy to keep alive, dead.

My mom, whom I'm beginning to think adopted me, has a green thumb that almost certainly glows in the dark. She can take those plants, you know the ones, the ones for "sale" at the local home improvement store, put in the back of the garden department, on their last leg, just inches away from a ride to the trash compactor and make them spring to life by just looking at them.

I dream of beautiful gardens, especially as I look enviously across the street. At a garden that appears to have been taken from a fairy tale. It looks like it should contain, bunny rabbits playing, birds chirping and flying over head and Snow White sitting in front on the beautiful green lawn with deer perched by her side.  Its perfect and whimsical. It's shaped beautifully with it's high planted greenery in the back and flowing beautiful flowers of all colors in the front, perfectly bordered by rocks and butterflies fluttering everywhere. As I look at it dreamily, it sings to me and snickers, in a "I'm a garden at a house with no kids" way.

The type of garden that should be illegal on a street with kids.


And then I look over at my yard, not bad but boring. The nice porch in the front bordered by even cut bushes. That's it.

When we first moved in I had dreams of bordering my yard, along the nice white picket fence in the back with beautiful flowers of all heights, colors and breeds. So I dug, weeded and planted. And when the kids begged to help, attracted to my fresh soil like a pig yurning to roll in the mud, I mistakingly gave in, and like kids do, they took over. My son dug a construction site for his trucks to play, train tracks for Thomas and a crash 'em up smash 'em up hill for his monster trucks. And my daughter, who proved to be my best helper at first, turned her trick hand a couple hours later. While taking a lunch break, she deviously approached me with her hands behind her back, never a good sign and declared, she had a surprise for me, a bouquet of nicely picked flowers from the garden, we had just planted hours before.

I once had beautiful hanging baskets, but my husband claims they only hung to life because he watered them daily, an important task I forgot. I got distracted what can I say. 

Besides, it's hard to start projects around the house with my crazy crew.

Repainting the kitchen: Hand prints every where, kids begging to help and "artwork"sprawled across the walls a couple hours later.

Installing solar lights near the front walk: The stakes in the ground become the newest attention grabber for my son, who treats the delicate glass lights like orange cones, weaving in and out, destroying them slowly one by one.

Installing new shelving: My daughter's pleading requests to help my husband with the task, leads him to become distracted and ended in him having a minor concussion, not sure it was from the shelf that dropped on his head or Sophia.

And finally, planting a new a garden: The flower petals become picked and destroyed by my daughter. And the new dirt attracts my son like white on rice, whose construction site role playing uproots the new plants before they even have a chance.

So for now, as I sit here on my porch and dream, I'll be across the street hiding my green dreams, in that whimsical garden with Snow White, while my 3 children who should have been her lost dwarfs, Smiley, Snappy and Slappy, take control over my kingdom.