It seems like both summers I have been pregnant, my plants die. Maybe I’m imagining things, but in 2006, while I was pregnant with Isabelle I bought a bunch of annuals and recruited Conrad and my brother-in-law Hubert to help me (i.e. do all of the real work while I supervised from my shaded perch) plant them in our flower beds. Everything last one of them shriveled up and died.
That fateful summer prompted me to decide to do only container gardening. The next summer things went swimmingly. I had beautiful flowers and plants. This summer, believing that my blooming curse had been lifted, I bought several wonderful flats of colorful flowers and planted them in containers.
A few weekends ago, while we were away in Georgia, we had several big storms and it pretty much drowned my plants in pots. They must need better drainage. But I find it odd since I’ve used these planters before?? Between the rain and the kamikaze birds that continue to dive bomb my hanging plants until they plummet daily to a dry concrete death, I’m fresh out of energy to maintain plant life.
Sadly, three weeks after spending big bucks on the dang things, I threw them out. Maybe next year I just have to stick with those pre-planted pots you get at Wal-Mart. Time to dumb it down a little more.