pruclearwar: (pru.clear.warfare)
[personal profile] pruclearwar
whenever I feel a bit down lately.

to say they are flourishing is an understatement.

it's miraculous, in that I was born with a black thumb. it's genetic. I inherited from my mother, who inherited it from her mother, just like my essential tremor and my various and varied neuroses.

but I look at my plants and I marvel. especially when I recall that all these plants I now own came to me through death.

the death of a co-worker. a neighbour. a friend.

he was older, but not old enough. he walked with a hitch in his stride, but always with shoulders back and head high. we talked music, and books, and anachronism, and we drank until we couldn't, then a few more.

when he died, his family gave me all his houseplants.

what was I supposed to do with houseplants? I was barely home. I worked all the time and slept (some) of the time. I ignored them until they were brown and brittle. then I'd water them a little and they'd have a quick growth, then go brown and brittle again.

but soon enough, I started actually caring for them. I watered them (almost) regularly. I fertilised them once or twice.

now my apartment is full of plants. half a dozen bushy pothos (all from one), some succulents.

the most surprising, though, was the dieffenbachia. because it was dead when it came to me. one little leaf, bent over and trailing the ground. now it's taken over my bath room. I can't figure how to prune it and I'm afraid of being struck dumb. I fear it wants my soul.

long story short, i'm sad and I want a garden so i'm making a jungle in my apartment.


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