Read by Matilda Longbottom

I have a confession to make: I’m a compulsive gardener. People often praise my green thumb, insisting that I can coax life from even the most stubborn of seeds. “Valerie can grow anything,” they say with awe. But there’s a secret I harbor, a dark cloud looming over my otherwise verdant thumb—I can’t grow radishes.

No matter the variety—champion, cherry belle, French breakfast, or the pristine icicles—I’m utterly defeated by these root vegetables. The descriptions promise the world: harvest in just 20-25 days, perfect globes or elongated fingers, never woody or spongy. But for me, they remain an elusive dream, taunting me from seed packet to plate.

Children can grow radishes. I envy their success as I struggle to unearth anything resembling those vibrant veggies. Instead, I’m met with mud-colored monstrosities, sprouting hairy tentacles like something out of a horror movie.

If I had a nickel for every seed that disappeared into the soil never to return, I’d be rolling in riches. My grand visions of a Vita Sackville-West-inspired white garden turned into a comedy of errors, with only calla lilies and a forgotten pink azalea to show for my efforts.

Hollyhocks are another sore spot. Despite planting what feels like a small nation’s worth of seeds, not a single one has seen the light of day. Meanwhile, I’ve witnessed hollyhocks thriving in the most improbable of places, mocking my futile attempts.

Sure, I can propagate roses from seemingly dead twigs and salvage bouquets from garbage bins. Carrots, parsnips, and potatoes flourish under my care. But until I can pluck a succulent, peppery radish from my own garden, I’ll forever feel like my gardening journey is incomplete. ❖

About the Author: Valerie Da-Silva Curtiss, a transplant from England now residing in Montana, has traversed the U.S. extensively in her career as a medical transcriptionist and quality assurance editor. She’s lent her editorial talents to publications like “The Headset” and “The Grapevine Press,” while also sharing her gardening expertise in “The Whole Shebang.” Her first book, “You Can’t Have Too Many Boston Terriers,” is available on Amazon. Now retired, she spends her days immersed in painting, gardening, writing, and dabbling in photography.