Taking credit where it is often not due

Gardening can certainly be considered a form of art. I watch PBS “Newshour” and almost every night the show begins with a commercial for an investment firm — https://ispot. tv/a/Zvur. In the ad, a nerdy pediatric surgeon wows a growing crowd of children as he creates a dinosaur topiary. A mop-topped red-head has a satisfied smile that says: “That guy deserves my admiration.”

I’m that mop-topped kid when I visit the Patrick Ranch Museum on the Midway, https://www. patrickranchmuseum.org. The landscaping is so wellcrafted that I know the gardeners considered our climate as well as the historic sense of place. The plant-tenders fussed with watering, soil condition and other things learned after considerable study.

It’s human nature to be proud of achievements.

Some of you have invited me to your gardens, not because you particularly want to chat with me, but because you know what you have achieved is something that deserves to be shared.

However, my skill at gardening is not of this caliber. I manage to add water, yank some weeds and pick off the bugs when they become unbearable. Sometimes I even wonder if the plants would be better off if I left them alone.

Yet, when things go well, I’m proud I was able to play a part.

I remember asking my mother “What should parents do if they are excellent parents, but for some reason a child turns out to be really, really bad?”

Mom said, “if a child does something wrong a parent can say she did the best she could. If a child shines, she can take credit.”

I know people who are proud of their pets. They’re proud of their furballs as if they nursed them on their own until the pooch could find the bowl of kibble on its own.

I’m proud of some of the things in my yard, at least at certain times of the year. The row of calendula along the walkway is blooming like crazy, and it was me who remembered to add water. However, I planted a few calendula seeds in a barrel 3 years ago; It was the plant that took the initiative to drop seeds, and wind and gravity that helped them find the ground. I live in the Avenues and my great soil probably reaches about 20 feet under my footsteps.

I’ll take credit anyway because it’s what I do.

The poppies I planted in the cracks of the concrete in the alley are stunning this week. I can imagine

HEATHER HACKING — CONTRIBUTED God gets all of the credit for creating California poppies, a plant that needs almost nothing and produces crazy bright orange flowers in places where nothing else will grow.