For many years I was under the impression that I had a black thumb. My father was an avid gardener and never failed to have a lush beautiful garden in his back yard. He states that he learned his gardening from his grandmother. He often tried to pass those skills on to me in my youth, but try as I might, I had not been able to grow much in the garden other than weeds until just recently.
I found myself standing in my yard looking over what is beginning to look like one of my father's gardens. He passed away a few years ago, but I felt as though he was standing there with his arm around me saying, "Well done, Adam. Well done."