Two weeks later, mum had to take back the plot as the weeds were running riot and the poor flowers were dying.
That was the extent of my gardening for the next sixteen years.
On our return to Munich we had a balcony, and so I had another attempt with flora. The alpine strawberries produced a handful of fruit before they died, the geraniums lasted a month or so before finally withering up. The rosemary at least fared well - but this may have been something to do with it not needing much water, as forgetting to water plants is my great downfall...
A new city, a new country, a new continent - it was time for me to have another attempt at 'horticulture.'
Although more modest, this plant was by no means small. We paid (he reduced the price by a couple of dollars for this *petite* plant) and walked away with his bemused chuckle ringing in our ears. After a couple of minutes walking with the heavy, awkward and cumbersome thing I figured why most sensible people would indeed take it home by car and not attempt to carry it on public transport.
I provided mum and C with much amusement on the way home, I can safely say that much.
However, nearly a month later it is still producing handfuls of tasty red tomatoes, despite the withered appearance of the leaves; and even if the squirrels are pinching the odd fruit or two, there are still more than enough for T and I to pick a couple every day.