Horticultrual Homicide

I potted a plant this weekend. I have no idea what kind of plant that it is. It really doesn’t matter. By the time I remember to ask my mother what the name is, the plant will be dead.

I am honestly surprised that the plant has lived thus far. I saw it at my mother’s house and thought that it had a really neat zigzag shape to the stem. She cut me off a few twigs and told me to put them in water to root. I think that was before Christmas.

These poor little cuttings have been soaking in water and screaming for dirt for weeks. They would look at me from their sad little glass of water and say “Look! I have roots now! For the love of photosynthesis, please put me in dirt!”

I think deep down, these plants know that I am a horticultural slacker.

I can sense their disappointment. That makes me want to try harder.