Sacks of seedlings on the sill,
So fresh, so young, so pretty still.
I water, I feed and I turn you around
I even talk to you and make cute sounds.
Oh, sacks of seedlings on the sill,
I'll do my darndest not to make you ill.
No bugs, over water or too much light
But terrible brown thumbs are hard to fight!
That ditty was something I made up and sang over and over again as I was planting the seedlings into little colourful sacks. Each sack was painted according to the colour the seedling in it will bloom into. Until I started gardening at the abandoned house, I really did have brown fingers. I figured if the seedlings don't survive, at least I'd still have those colourful sacks.
But I think we all know the seedlings will never die.