I’m taking a breather this morning from the kitchen renovations, and celebrating this glorious sunny day by reminiscing about a recent trip I made to an adorable nursery in HMB–not where cute little children with rosy cheeks are being nurtured, but the far more harmless green variety are being grown. Alena Jean Nursery and Flower Shop on Purissima is a magical almost fairy-tale like place, where prehistoric looking geraniums, petite succulents, and garden gnomes share a home.
Ever since I can remember, I have lived with a garden. Whether it was a postage stamp sized yard or a larger yard in my teens, my parents grew everything from chili peppers to persimmons. They seriously had green thumbs, and their parents before them, seriously had green thumbs. I would describe myself as having less of a green thumb, and more of a chartreuse thumb. I don’t necessarily kill plants, and many do thrive under my care, but most of the vegetables I have planted do not grow into leafy, climbing monstrosities that are so heavy with fruit that it is necessary to support them with bamboo crutches. My vegetables start out fine but at some point, as if waving a white flag to call it quits, the leaves start to yellow a bit, and then production slows down(really it comes to a complete halt), and then ends up in the green recycling bin. But it’s in my DNA, so I keep charging ahead making frequent visits to nurseries, and constantly hunting for that holy grail with roots. And that’s why I love places like Alena’s because the hunt becomes more of a stroll, and there’s hope and rainbows around every corner.