There was a time where I celebrated life in all its forms. Especially green specimens. I once had a philodendron so long it wrapped around my living room. And now? Now I kill things.
I’m not sure when the killing spree started. To look at my family room I would guess the carnage started about six months ago, but I know it’s been longer than that. I’ve been murdering plants for years, and simply replacing them with new models each spring.
It is time for my annual purge and replenish. Seven plants have survived me this year…down from fifteen. And of those still green, I’d guess only one is salvageable. The others? They have some green, but it is sparse and pathetic looking.
Why do I keep buying plants only to kill them? I don’t know. I think I wish back to my green thumb self – the pre-kids girl who watered and fertilized consistently, who took the plants outside every month to spray off the dust and let them soak up pure sunshine. I miss that girl, and her infatuation with lilies. So I buy her plants, hoping she will come back.
The plants hope so to. The woman I’ve become is a killer.
2 comments:
Awww... I envy that you have ever had a green period - I have always had a black thumb when it comes to houseplants. Even cut flowers wither at the sight of me. It's not for lack of trying . . . =(
Awwww. I've never been able to keep them alive. Maybe your life-keeping energy has transferred from your plants to your kids? Dunno. *hugs*
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