I’ve been known as a plant-killer—a reputation that has spanned a good many years and one that is fairly well-earned.
A shortcoming, if you prefer, and one that I share with my mother.
Her plants always looked a tad beaten, neglected, misfortunate. Her life was busy; perhaps I will use that excuse—I mean reason.
As a result of my inability to remember to water my houseplants, I quit acquiring them. But still I admire plants. I imagine green life up on my shelves and hanging down from my cupboard tops, waving at me in a friendly manner.