Well I couldn’t take it anymore. Winter isn’t much of a winter here, sure there’s snow on the ground now, but according to my own personal meteorologist, we are supposed to be getting just rain for the next two days — I know, bummer, right? So, with the sad excuse of a winter around these parts, what’s a girl to do? Look forward to planting her garden.
I got out the bag of potting soil and repotted my Christmas cactus since it woefully needed more soil (don’t worry I used the cacti mix for the cacti) and then topped off the geraniums that came with the house. These geraniums are planted in milkboxes and came with the house. Talk about a guilt trip– the plants were like 15 years old when we bought the house and we have this deep seated obligation to keep them alive come hell or high water — so far neither of those have hit us here, so we’re lucky, we only need to fight snow, frost and the occasionally mean minded chipmunk.
Then, as long as we’re on the obligation route, there are the plants that came with Tyler. — Okay, so they didn’t really come with Tyler because that would just be weird, but we got them as a teeny tiny grouping of plants in a beautiful pot from one of our very dear friends Cathy and her parents when Tyler was born (for those of you who don’t know my middle son is now almost 16 years old) and I’ve been coddling those along through the years. I am sad — very sad — to report that one of the group has recently passed away but I still have it in dirt in the hopes of some type of plant resurrection. Somewhere in my deep sub conscious (once you push aside all the other scary stuff that lives there in the dark) is the fear that if something were to happen to all those plants that something bad would happen to Tyler (yes, I know I am weird and obviously psychologically damaged – but I just like to chalk it up to my Italian superstitious roots — makes me look less nutty that way).
This all probably stems back to the incredible loss of the ivy from my wedding bouquet, which my dear Dad rooted while we were on our honeymoon and proudly presented to me in a pot and then I killed a few months later. I don’t have the ivy and I don’t have my father (I know that those two are not related) I don’t know how the ivy died since I really tried hard to take care of it, but I also don’t think that I can ever get over it — hence my need to keep plants alive.