Roots

When it comes to gardening, I was born with a "brown" thumb.

I come from generations of brilliant gardeners from both sides of the family tree -- people who could make a dry twig sprout into something glorious -- and instead I could make something glorious become a dry twig.  With two exceptions: weeds and poison ivy.  Apparently I have a real knack for making those grow very well! 

My gardening failures are not due to a lack of trying -- one year, when we were in California, my husband and I decided to finally pay attention to those lovely rose bushes that were at our rental house -- the ones that bloomed each year.  We read up on caring for roses and we thought we got the right kind of soil additives and pruned them correctly, etc. -- and darn near killed the bushes.  Clearly, the bushes were better off without us.

So when my mother brought me a sprig of purple basil from my great-grandmother's (Granny) garden in Georgia, I didn't become too attached to it.  I knew it, like other plants before it, would have a short-lived life once it was under my care.  I tell people that I'm glad I have a much better track record with kids and pets than I do with plants.

My mother planted the sprig, it grew a little, and not realizing it was edible like its green cousin, I just left it alone, and at some point it shriveled up and died, just as I suspected it would.  I felt bad -- clearly I just was not worthy of such a cherished possession.

Imagine my surprise, then, when the next year, the plant resurrected, along with several friends. I didn't realize that it had dropped seeds and that without me having to do anything at all, it was going to spread itself.  I had never had such success with a plant (other than the aforementioned weeds and poison ivy!)

And so it has been, year after year, one tiny sprig has now grown into about 15 feet of purple basil.  I have since learned that purple basil is edible and I've made batches of pesto, and basil lemonade, included it in salads, and am always hunting for additional recipes using basil.  My children are thrilled every time I say, "will you go cut some basil?"   

Granny passed away long before I was married, but she would've loved my kids -- JavaBoy and his endless questions and love of gardening, JavaGirl and her nature girl way.  Every time we visited Granny when I was growing up, I loved to go out with her in her garden and see what she had grown.  My mother also had a garden, but not nearly of the same magnitude -- Granny practically had a miniature farm, including rows and rows of corn.  My grandmother carries on the tradition now, but the kids haven't been to see the Georgia house, as she travels to see us.  They have, however, seen the literal fruits of her labor, when she brings wonderful canned goods -- homemade jellies and other treats.  I'm in my second summer of dabbling in a vegetable garden, mostly at the prodding of my son and thanks to a Lowe's Mother's Day gift card from my mother-in-law who apparently has great faith in me.

I know I haven't suddenly developed a green thumb. Every time I walk by my basil patch, I am certain it is a heavenly influence from Granny.  It is her way of saying, "You can do this."  And "this" can vary by the day -- gardening, child-rearing, getting through the day...  It is a reminder to slow down, enjoy the simple pleasures in life, dig into the dirt a little, and to remember the generations before us.  With every batch of pesto we make, my kids love for me to recount how this basil came from the seeds of a plant that my mother brought all the way from Georgia from the garden maintained by my grandmother, from plants planted by my great-grandmother.  And maybe one day, they will tell the same story to their own children, adding to it that they learned how to make pesto from their mommy.

J.J. blogs about life, family, technology, and the occasional recipe at Caffeine and a Prayer.  And she desperately needs more basil recipes!