Why is it that when winter hits, I find myself thinking about gardening? It's the wrong time of year to be thinking about planting things in the back yard, or of buying seeds for the window boxes I have out front. Yet here I am thinking that it would be nice to buy a few white and purple flowers for the window boxes, and wondering if we could possibly get that hole in my back yard fixed to start planting things out there.
I don't know what i want to plant in the backyard, and I'm certainly not someone who has a green thumb. I think I kill plants. Digging in the dirt isn't exactly something that makes me happy. It isn't something that I actually enjoy. I find it dirty, icky and generally hot and sweaty. Add on the fact I believe anything I plant is going to just up and die, and I have no idea why I'm so keen on planting anything in the first place.
I couldn't even keep the plant in a pot that my mother gave me, alive. I killed it. Actually, them. She's given me more than one. I kill green things. Go me. But still I'm sitting here wondering if I could plant something in the planters. Purple is certainly a color I want to use.
But it's Autumn. It's not the time to be thinking about planting things in the front or back yards. It's not time for me to be thinking about kinds of plants or colors, and certainly not the time for me to be wondering if I could open Google and start a list of plants to look into buying come Spring.
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