I'm not incompetant. I am not the Grim Sower, bringer of death to all things green and pretty. My soil test proves it.

I've been really worried that I'd lost my green thumb. I used to be able to grow things. I had beautiful beds full of herbs and perennials. They'd live. Here, though....everything would die. Sometimes the plant would just immediately start to die. Some plants would thrive for a little while, then turn yellow and no matter how much attention was given to their every need, they would slowly slink off toward a withered and pitiful death. I even killed thyme. I was beginning to believe that I had become a container-only gardener.

I should back up and say that through several moves through very different geographical soil areas, I've always found the old advise from Barbara Damrosch's Garden Primer to work perfectly. It involves digging a bed to about 8 inches, topping it off with enough manure/compost and peat moss to augment whatever soil type you're dealing with, and hoeing it all in. The rest is just gravy. Not so here, even pansies yellow and wilt with not a bloom.

I did a soil test a few weeks ago, not expecting much to come of it. I was wrong. Despite the amendments, the soil pH is 5.3, and the only nutrient I have in adequate amounts is magnesium. The soil is so acid, so porous...everything is leaching out. Not an easy situation to remedy, but still it is a relief to finally have some insight into the...

This afternoon I got to enjoy one of those great simple pleasures of living in SoWal. i dropped by the beach to get some fresh sea air, chat with some friends, and watch the sunset. It was one of those afternoons that makes me cognizant of how lucky I am to live here.

It was a good evening, which is why the first twinge of a not immediately identifiable emotion took me by surprise. Walking on the beach, I saw three tourists excitedly setting up chairs, opening a bottle of wine, and getting set to watch the sunset. they were at rapt attention, not glancing over as we had been. I envied them a little bit, but I wasn't sure why.

Driving home, I decided to go the long way -- which means 30A through Seaside. There were so many vacationers bustling around, you could smell the hotel -- er -- cottage rental agency-- soap. They all had that look -- they were taking everything in and savoring it. Everyone was rosy from the sun, dressed in beachy dresses and lightly colored summer classics, heading off to have some seafood at the beach. And you knew they were going to take a special pleasure in dinner at Bud and Alley's or the Baithouse, its a once a year treat. Seaside had such a special energy tonight, I had to stop and put the top down and try to soak a little of it in. Lucky tourists.

That's right, I said lucky tourists. It hit me then -- I was a little jealous.

It hit me that I would never go back to the cottage from the beach,...