It’s my wife who has the green thumb. Also the green spirit. She walks into our garden of a morning and sings out, “Hello, everybody!” And the flowers, vegetables, shrubs, and volunteer ground covers (except for the goutweed, which is hateful and bent on achieving global domination) all straighten up and beam.
Whereas me, what I want from plants is produce. In Eden, even, I would have struggled to suppress my natural tendency to glare at tomato plants,
