Subtitle of this post: Things I Am Not Good At.

If you are a follower of my regular blog, you have heard about my frustration with growing things. And maybe you remember how my grandmother, who shook her head despairingly over my black thumb, could resuscitate totally dead plants into thriving botanical wonders.

I try. Herbs in pots, who could go wrong with that? Here they were in a sunny garden window, last fall. 

Here they are now. Oh, bitter day.

My brother gave me a book for Christmas: Urban Gardening for Dummies. And I’ll try it, really I will. But I face the fact that I’ll never be mistaken for a gardener, urban or otherwise. Sorry.