I’ve been struggling to feel productive lately since I’m not going to work. When this happens, I formulate so many grand plans that are undoubtedly unrealistic for a mom of a toddler and a dad trying to work on his PhD. But I formulate away anyhow. Yesterday though, I kept it simple; it was all about the houseplants. I strapped Sprouty into her car seat and headed to a couple of nearby nurseries. One of my grand plans was to purchase clear, hanging terrariums for our front window and place sweet little air plants inside. Like this. But then I couldn’t find terrariums anywhere but online, and I learned that the air plants shouldn’t be in such direct, hot sunlight. Oh well.
We’ve killed many plants in this house. Our poor rubber plant went bald without warning until all that was left of him was a pathetic stalk. Our orchid lasted two days before it got knocked over and broke. No more delicate orchids in dainty pots for us. Our cacti from Arizona shriveled up after awhile, though we left them dead on display for quite some time. I guess we just had a hard time letting go. Then there was our lovely African violet. Turns out they are more finicky than we knew. That plant was doomed from the start. Our most recent casualty was our lovely, purply prayer plant. That one was supposed to live, according to the guy at the nursery. It didn’t need a lot of light or water, which should make it easy to care for, right? Somehow, it wasn’t easy enough for Ms. Black Thumb over here. That plant curled up in itself and said goodnight after only a few months.
What are we doing wrong?
Actually, I think this all might be karma for letting our thriving potato plant, Phyllis, kick the bucket when we moved to this house. She lived in the living room window of our apartment with us from the start. She started out medium-sized and manageable, but then she grew. A lot. There simply wasn’t room for all her dangly vines. She was like a plant version of a teenager, getting all out of control and taking over the house. (Though I do not recommend shunning your teenager to the dark and stifling garage.)
At Easter this year, my mom came bearing gifts. She brought us this guy and assured me that we couldn’t kill it. I think she got it at Jewel.
Looks like CJ is getting a little too big for his brown plastic pot.
As you can see from this picture, The Crown Jewel as we’ll call him, is still alive! In fact, he’s grown! He likes me, he really likes me!
With my renewed burst of gardening confidence, I bought five little succulents.
Just chillin’ with the candle sticks and bird.
So ugly it’s cool.
“The popular table.” They’re so exclusive.
I figure succulents are my best bet as long as I remember to keep the curtains open for them. I potted them myself tonight using the planters of the deceased. (May they rest in peace.) Please keep your fingers crossed that these little guys make it. I paid twenty bucks for them, and I also think they are pretty cute.
The air in here already feels fresher. Ahhhhhhh.