Bye Bye Bonsai

My grandmother was raised on a farm and she could grow anything.  Her gardens were full of vegetables and her porches were always filled with pots full of petunias and begonias. My mother was born and raised on a farm too. She loved to work out in the yard on her flowers or to grub (that’s what she called it) in her garden. She said it was her therapy and she could grow anything.

I was not born on a farm and I kill plants.

There, I’ve admitted it. I should feel better now, but I don’t. In fact I’m feeling exceptionally guilty because I’ve really committed the ultimate gardening sin; I’ve killed a Bonsai tree.

My college age son (yes, the same one who said  was a good NanaHood idea because us old folks needed something to do) gave me a Bonsai tree for Mother’s Day, a 27 year old Bonsai tree.  Now keep in mind that he knows my reputation with growing things. I walk through nurseries and plants wilt at the sight of me. So giving me a live plant is about as smart as giving someone on a diet a box of Krispy Kreme donuts and asking them to hold them for you. I managed to keep it alive for a few weeks but then I got busy and well….

This is what a Bonsai tree is supposed to look like.

And this is what my Bonsai tree looks like.

I can’t bear to throw the thing away. After all, it lived for 27 years and it was such a sweet gift. Maybe I should bury it in the backyard and hold a memorial service for it. We could sing Bye Bye Bonsai to the tune of Bye Bye Birdie. I could make a tombstone for it that says, “This Bonsai lived 27 good years before having the misfortune of being given to Teresa Kindred.”

Next year I suspect I will get pajamas or socks, or some other non-living item.  Oh well, not every nana is perfect; especially not this one.