Tucson taught me many things. I do not adapt well to hostile environments. Heat makes me sweaty which makes me cranky which makes me hide out in my little apartment with the shades drawn--for six months at a time.Desert hippies are scary. One city cannot have too many head shops. Beetles come with antlers that rival any deer. And I cannot be trusted with plants.
In the course of doing time there, I managed to kill every cactus I bought. Cactus that were native to Tucson. Dead. And it didn't take me long. I took this to mean that I should in no way take responsibility for living plants. But now I think I something may have changed. While most of the yard is in dire need of TLC (which I'm slowly but surely attending to), we've had random tulips and lilac and even a baby aspen popping up--in close proximity to me.
At first I steadfastly ignored these obvious signs of life. Then, however, I came home with a mint plant (I blame spring fever) fully intending to kill it for basil mint pesto and it refused to die. In fact, I had to put it in a bigger pot and even gave a cutting its own little pot. Then, I bought a pothos which my mom immediately labeled a loser plant--as in even a loser can't kill it. For a while though, it seemed like my green streak was over. It wasn't looking good despite my care. Noticing that it was an awfully big plant for such a small pot, I transplanted it and it's now looking happy again. It's like I learned to speak plant or something.
Now, in usual dalyn fashion, I'm feeling cocky. My little plant collection has grown to include a table full of (hopefully) sprouting basil (I even bought some crazy rock shit to put in the bottom of the soil to help with drainage which I managed to spill all over the garage, but I think some got in where it was supposed to go), a lemon thyme plant, and two different pepper plants. The real challenge, though, is going to be the fuchsia I just bought to hang in the dining room. I hear they can be temperamental. More so than cactus apparently. Move over Martha...