My earliest gardening memory is sitting under the veranda making my very first (and last) mud pie, while my parents resentfully weeded the backyard. In true show-and-tell style, I held the pie to my mother’s eye line to present my feat. She was not impressed. In fact, she was horrified. I was cleaned up and put inside, safe away from the evils of insects, weeds and dirt. My second gardening memory was being stung by a bee. My third, a bird ‘went potty’ on my forehead.
What's your gardening conversion story?
PS You'll be happy to know my parents are now also happy gardeners, after moving home and owning a more manageable garden, which is also more to their tastes. My dear mum was surprised to find that, when not faced with an overwhelmingly large garden for her resources, she did, in fact, enjoy (even... LOVE) gardening! They now have a lovely Australian cottage garden in the front yard, and some stunning (both in sight and scent) vines in the backyard. They're a great example of finding the right garden to meet their needs.