Maybe a smidgen more than that. You see, I love plants. I like them outside; I like them inside. I like them in the rain and on a train... (too much Green Eggs and Ham. Sorry) I like how they liven up a room, and I really like how they clean our air. I love how they connect me back into God's beautiful world.
Twenty years ago, my mother gave me a few cuttings from her plants. As a new bride, I carefully started them, and cared for them in our sparse little apartments. But then a few college moves became a few more, and one move after another, we lost our plants. They didn't fit in the truck, or they tipped over, or they wouldn't survive the trip so I gave them to neighbors... I'm still sad about the demise of my plants.
So I bravely tried again. I bought a few little plants from the store and put them in cheap (but cute) little pots. I water them when I remember, and try not to remember too often. And then I remember the real reason why I haven't had plants for the last decade or so:
Yes, that is a dumped-out pot and an uprooted plant. Poor plant. I hope it will recover. (And yes, they had fun playing in the dirt in MY room when they were supposed to be taking a nap. They are boys, after all!)
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