I’m not much of a plant person. I once had my heart broken when a plant my grandmother gave me died. I haven’t been able to become attached to any since. However, I do periodically think about becoming “planty.”
My hubby and I have a policy of “no living things,” because it’s easier for travel.
But the universe is trying to tell me something, I think. First, for my birthday a friend bought me a plant. I usually keep it at work, and so far it seems pretty healthy, once I remembered to water it, and once I learned not to overwater it. It’s a succulent, so I think he had an idea that maybe I’m not the best with plants, because these are easy to care for. I love it. And I kind of want to name it. Is that wrong?
Then there were the beautiful roses my dearest Barry brought me home on book launch day. What a sweet, sweet gesture. Although they’re almost beyond it now, I have enjoyed them so much.
A couple of days ago brought the latest: a friend commiserating with the cancellation of my book launch party for Victorine brought me by some potted tulips. I adore tulips!
The first one was just beginning to open. Today, all have bloomed, and I’ve got to say, being surrounded by these beauties made me decide to bring my succulent home from work as we will not go back for the duration of that dreadful illness that must not be named.
Here’s to living things. All of us.