In college, for a girl I had a crush on, I agreed to care for her cat and a houseplant over winter break. The CliffsNotes plot summary: I overwatered the plant, overfed the feline, and overestimated the girl’s feelings for our relationship.

Of the three, only the fat cat survived.

For a different girl I met in college, years later I planted a dwarf orange tree as a gift for her 15th wedding anniversary. I did everything the gardening expert at the nursery advised: from choosing an ideal location with optimal sunshine, to digging a hole of the prescribed circumference and depth, to using the right soil mixture and watering amply but with care.

Alas, for our 16th anniversary I did not give my wife a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice in bed because the tree had already died. Fortunately, our wedded family tree is still thriving after 38 years.

Some people – such as my great-grandfather, who developed his own registered “Woodburn Golden Dent” corn variety that won countless state gold medals and was popular well beyond the borders of his native Ohio – have green thumbs.

My thumb, on the other hand (on both hands, in fact) is funeral black. To trees, plants, lawns, roses and even full gardens, I am a human Dust Bowl. And so it was with great trepidation that I agreed to care for my son and his lovely fiancé’s small potted succulent named Spikey.

While my wife has developed a light-green thumb to compensate for my inabilities, I wanted to make amends for the departed orange tree and thus assumed the care of Spikey. How is it going, you might wonder?

Believe it or not, my future daughter-in-law tells me Spikey is thriving like never before! Further truth be told, I must share credit with a dear friend of mine. “Sus,” who has a bright emerald thumb, shared with me a few of her secrets.

First off, she told me I must occasionally take Spikey outside for “recess” in the fresh air. This sounded both reasonable and doable.

Secondly, less reasonable and much less doable, she advised me to sing to Spikey. Sus leans towards church hymns for her houseplants and specifically noted that her bonsai tree, “Little Harmony,” is partial to “I Come To The Garden Alone.”

Understand, Sus sings in a choir and has a voice so enchanted it could turn weeds into roses. My voice, I fear, would do the opposite. Thus, Sus agreed I could instead play radio music for Spikey under one condition – that I must at least read to him.

“You’re joking, right?” I said.

It turns out Spikey seems to enjoy hearing “The Runaway Bunny” and “Goodnight Moon” from my lips nearly as much as does my two-year-old granddaughter. When I confessed to Sus that I felt silly reading children’s books to a plant, however, she suggested trying a novel.

“You’re kidding, right?”

I think Spikey’s vocabulary is growing almost as steadily as he is.

It seems I have become a plant whisperer of sorts. As such, I have now been temporarily entrusted with six of Spikey’s relatives: Lundy, short for London, who needs to avoid direct sunlight and Lexa, who likes a little sunshine; Phillip and Mariposa, who each must have their support stakes routinely checked for straightness; and Verny and Junior, who should both be watered sparsely.

As for books, I was thinking they might all enjoy if I read aloud “Where The Red Fern Grows” – but certainly not “The Giving Tree” for it would surely give them nightmares.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Personalized Signed copies of WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and  “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” are available at WoodyWoodburn.com