If it had been I who'd found the snapped-off leaf in the back of my car, I probably would've tossed it in the trash or left it to crisp in the trunk.

Not Mom. She has this curiosity about her, this Let's see what happens thing going. She gave that dying leaf a chance, and it showed her what it could do. That plant is now one of the most beautiful African violets I've ever seen, with white blooms on one side and purple on the other.

I've never been the most conscientious person with plants. In fact, my reputation as a plant-torturer preceded me so profoundly that when I'd walk though a greenhouse, schefflera would shudder, trumpet vine trees would tremble, and prayer plants would start their Hail Marys. But even though Mom was aware of my history with plants, she still entrusted me with this special violet.

Let's see what happens.

My mom has been doing that sort of thing all my life, planting - and actually growing - what most people would just throw away. She took the lopped off top of a pineapple and grew it into a plant, kept the seed from avocados and grew them, as well.

I know that African violet in my kitchen window isn't Mom, but in a way, it is. I look at it and see her. Because I've been determined to keep that violet alive, my other plants are now thriving. (Probably because they're now being watered more often than once or twice every quarter.)

A few months ago, my friend Sue and I were talking about gardens, and she offered to give me some slips of her plants. Slips was a term I hadn't heard before.

"My mom called them slips," Sue said. "And she said you should never say 'thank you' for a plant because that was bad luck. The plant would die. Instead you should say, 'I appreciate it.'"

Thinking I might have inherited some of Mom's gift, I've been trying my hand at planting a few things myself, just to see what would happen. Thinking a grape arbor would be nice, I planted a raisin. Nothing. I tried sesame seeds. Same result.

Luckily, I have some green-thumbed friends and neighbors who have given me slips, and there's something about those plant slips I find extra appealing. Not just because I'm a tightwad who loves getting a freebie, but because those plants will always be connected to the person who gave them to me.

Several years ago, when I was a single mother with an out-of-control yet very dull yard, one of my former neighbors, Trish, offered to help. She spent hours thinning out plants from her yard and her sister's, then even more hours helping me replant them in my yard. A year or so later, Trish moved away, but the now lush, mature plantings continue to be a nice reminder of her.

This past year, I've found myself getting more interested in gardening. Our new house has a heavily shaded yard with an abundance of ivy. Finding the right plants is a challenge for a person who is green everywhere but her thumb.

Someday, though, I hope to have a garden filled with reminders of friends, neighbors and Mom.

And maybe a raisin plant, too.

Reach Karin Fuller at karinful...@cnpapers.com. Her columns can be accessed easily through her blog at thegazz.com.