After 29 years its finally happened: the gardening gene hit me. My family is huge into gardening. My Dad has the most beautiful yard ever. He has over 3,000 Daffodils, shrub roses, daisies--you name it, he has it. My Grandpa Voelker lived on a small city lot in Chicago. He still managed to grow zucchini the size of my head and plant tons of flowers. My other grandparents have a large garden that takes up a good chunk of their backyard. When we lived in Illinois, my parents won a beautification award from the city of Park Forest for their yard. My relatives are always swapping plants across state lines. Everyone always jokes with me about when I'll pick up the family hobby. I usually reply with some smart ass answer, like "I live in the city. We don't garden." I think, though, I knew deep down inside this was inevitable, you can't fight what's in your blood. Well, yesterday the family hobby caught up with me. I went to Home Depot to purchase impatiens for the flower boxes out front and marigolds for the pots. I decided to just start small. Part of me wanted to do something big like make a new flower bed. I kept myself under control. With everything I do, I tend to take on too much. I am also not a pro like my Dad.
It was actually fun to do some planting again. Growing up, I would always help my parents plant and water flowers. I am thinking I might have to go get some more flowers for the other pots I found in the shed. Of course, we'll see how long it takes for me to kill the plants.