Both my daughters are better gardeners than me. I noticed my granddaughter was growing an orchid on her window sill.

I've had no luck passing down anything I love to my daughter. Reading, embroidery, gardening... She is, however, now making a quilt, so maybe there's hope. And it's not because she hates me or is rebelling - she just has different passions.

Yea, it sure is, isn't it. I don't have any children (nor do I want any) so I've no one to pass anything down to except maybe my nieces but that's a longshot. Keep trying to infect DH with the fever but he thus far has demonstrated quite strong immunity...

Both our boys love to garden, our daughter takes after her dad, loves the end results, not so much the journey:).
Me, I don't think I could exist without some dirt to play in, I love the feel of the soil between my fingers, no gloves for me. It was my grandparents that passed their love gardening on to me. They grew most of their own vegetables and fruit and had lovely flower gardens as well.
It skipped a generation but I picked up my love of gardening at an early age, have had a garden most of my life, it's in the blood :).

Annette

It certainly wasn't in my blood, Annette...in fact, I also had a cast-iron immunity until I hit my 40s. I blame my daughter for her innocent purchase of a lavatera to put in the dog-mangled, stomped earth wilderness we would never have called a garden - but did refer to as a yard. US people note - this has an entirely different meaning in the UK...one that relies entirely on a complete absence of plants...or any green matter and a surplus of paving, old bikes, washing line and coal house...even a privy in some old houses.
Obviously, the lavatera did well (it took over the entire 'yard') and a second lucky buy of Japanese anemones convinced me I had 'green fingers'. Glossing over the gardenias, camellias and other assorted fails, out of absolutely nowhere, I had an epiphany and became plant crazed practically overnight. It bemuses me to this day.

Everyone in my family in my house is immune, but my family of origin are really sick with the Bug. My son would use my garden for sets for his animated war movies. I would come out and find fires in my bamboo forest and toy solders and cameras and tripods. OR I would find lakes and fire and battleships in the back perennial garden and a beech front in the old sand box. I raised a garden destroyer.

Campanula, If your sone wants some xeric hesperloe , Nolina texanna or an agave striata seeds, just ask. i want to get him wandering in circles too.

My parents instilled a love of gardening in me from as far back as I can remember and I am very happy that I have been able to pass it along to our daughter. She has had her own perennial garden since she was 11. At 14 I had to tend it for a bit since she had become "too cool" but it did not take long for her to return to it. She now has her degree in horticulture. Yeah!

Having grown up on a farm, growing was a must, but beauty was not. I don't remember growing anything that was not to be eaten. Time in the garden was just like all the rest of the farm, just different seasons. We were poor and depended on the garden, what we did not eat fresh we canned for the winter. We are pleased to see the grandchildren well enough off, that their gardening is for their enjoyment, not a necessity. Al

Vividly recall toddler memories of plants as special friends - the weeping willow that whispered above my sandbox, the bleeding heart that towered over me by the garage, the lilacs that so generously shared their perfume in amazing Spring. We moved to an old established garden when I was 4 (the house was nice, too) & my folks kept the gardener who'd tended it bi-weekly for years, having no interest in maintenance. Especially enchanted by the banks of azaleas terraced out front, crept downstairs before dawn & mastered the door lock to wander in wonder among them, returning to bed before anyone awoke, to dreams filled with gardens in bloom. (Been exploring those dreamland gardens ever since...) Tagged along with the gardener, grew to know each plant & tree & begged my own little plot to grow flowers. Given a foot deep stretch along the back fence uncultivated for years, took great two-handed effort with an adult hand trowel to pry & pound that unrelenting dirt into something approaching the tilth & scent of the proper garden beds. Had to grind some of those clods between stones & became closely acquainted with differing properties of earths, "borrowing" trowelsfull from the back of cultivated beds where only a small body could venture without notice. Treasured gifts of a child-sized watering can with a colorful decal of "Mary, Mary, how does your garden grow?" beneath Mary watering her flowers and packets of marigolds & morning glories. So began my life as an eager participant in the great magic of the natural world - a gardener.

My son expressed vague mumbles of the "that's nice" variety over the years but never seemed interested until he bought his first home with established greenery but few flowers. Began asking advice & specifics about this & that in a manner that showed he had been paying attention after all. Borrowing a stack from my bookshelf & supplied with clumps from this garden, he began adding flower gardens to his own. Marrying shortly after, his wife caught the bug. Together they cleared & planted a vegetable garden, put up a compost bin, landscaped a steep hill, built a pond & a deck, created expanding garden beds. Twelve years in, they're still going strong in the garden.

Mom became a gardener when my folks retired & Poppa became intrigued as well. She shared stories of her mother having a green thumb & winning prizes for her dahlias, saying I was just like her, out in the garden at all hours. So the contagion jumps in all directions along the generations. The gardener after my own heart is my granddaughter, who's grown up in both gardens. From stroking the lamb's ears as a baby to our jaunts through garden aisles sniffing, exploring & discussing the offerings, she's absorbed familiarity along with the keen sense of magic. Now a preteen, she responded somewhat indignantly "I know my flowers!" when recently quizzed during a garden stroll. Along with Latin & common names, indeed she does. May the joy of gardening grow with her & hers liveslong.