Problem is, I don't have a green thumb. My thumb has always been the farthest away from green one can possibly get. In fact, I can kill artificial plants. Seriously.
So imagine my excitement -- and panic -- when my handbell choir kids gave me this geranium...
Was this my chance? Could I affirm those kids' beautiful, beaming smiles by keeping their precious little gift alive? Or would they realize that they'd just sentenced this little plant to a long, slow and very painful death from neglect and starvation in the home of the world's worst gardener? I vowed to do everything possible to cut off my black thumbs and keep this little guy alive.
First, it acquired a name -- Jimmy. Not because it bears any resemblance to one of my most beloved piping instructors, mind you... but rather, because I couldn't remember what species it was when asked one day. "It's a jimmy, germy, something-or-other," I explained to the friend doing the asking. And hence, the name Jimmy stuck.
Second, it came with a small tag that said "medium sun and water." Learning exactly what constitutes "medium sun and water" in a high, sunny altitude like Colorado Springs proved quite a challenge for this desert-bred gardening hopeful. (In southern Arizona, after all, gardening constitutes merely raking colored rocks and carefully removing wind-blown trash from cactus spines.)