Come back this Saturday, I'll have a sweet Mid Century Modern furniture project to share with ya!
I have finally surrendered to the shame of this label and am coming clean about it.
It all started with this plant. It was a sweet housewarming present from a friend for our new place. It came to me one week ago looking like this.
(didn't even have time to snap a "before" pic. Image credit here)
And will be carried out today looking like this.
This was not a case of malice aforethought or egregious neglect (like perhaps at other times...). I watered it every day faithfully. But I seriously skipped one day. ONE!! and it shriveled up and died.
I'm not kidding. This is so unfair. No plant has a right to be that needy.
Killing Me Softly
"Welcome to your new home! Here's a plant!" A seemingly sweet gesture, but in reality a huge commitment. I'm forced to agree to take on another life, and feed, nurture, and support it for eternity. Nobody hands you puppies or kittens or children for a housewarming gift, and for good reason. So why are plants ok?
I have this passive aggressive attitude toward house plants. I feel like they should be able to get along pretty darn well on their own without me holding their hand, if it wants to be taken seriously and earn my respect. I have no patience whatsoever for sissy plants that need to be kept at 69 1/2 degrees Fahrenheit and given 300 milliliters of pure mountain spring water every 20 hours except during a full moon, while singing soft Irish lullabies and caressing it softly.
Come on now! I say. Show a little spunk!
A History of Abuse
In fact, looking back, all I've ever managed to do with plants all my life is stretch out their dying process, rather than see anything thrive.
In our old living room we had Palmy. I thought this palm tree would be a great addition to our living room. I made sure it had sufficient light and got (somewhat) enough water. Palm trees live in the desert for crying out loud! Nobody walks around misting and primping them out in the "wild", so why should I have to??
To make a long story short, I killed it. Not an over the weekend type of death, oh no. The kind that goes on for months and years, stretching out the agony of fronds turning brown and falling off, until there was only a few sad fronds left.
Maybe it was the shock of "this is what I've been missing??!!" or something, but that thing saw that sun and curled up and died. Fine. I said. Die you stupid waste of dirt.
Turning a New Leaf...?
The one exception to my serial killings is my beautiful Fiddle Leaf fig tree. I bought last Spring after the makeover, to replace Palmy.
I swore I'd take good care of it, after all it cost me $40. For me that's a HUGE plant investment. I gave it sun, and water. I've misted it and aerated it's pot. Next trip to Wal Mart I am buying it plant food. I am a changed woman.
We shall see, my friend, we shall see.
Until then, don't give me a plant, or it will die. I can even kill a cactus.
Get on the crazy train!