I've never been much of a plant person. I like them but I don't ever think, "I bet a plant would look great there." My thoughts are usually along the lines of, "That spot could really use a disco ball." But this year I seemed to have started a Home for Abandoned Plants because friends and family have moved and left all their foliage with me. First Amanda moved and left me a few, then my neighbor Sandee, the Plant Lady, moved and left me more plants than a girl should ever have, and then Gina and Chris moved and, well, when it's between your tv and your plants, your tv is always going to win the trip up to Utah in the back seat. I went from having 1 plant to having 20.
Well, there was a hit put out on my plants over the summer while I was away taking care of Maynard's bladder problem and counting the Duke's surfing tchotchkes. When I got back I found most of them whithering in the heat, all sad and droopy and brown, some very near death. I was kind of heart broken because I'd grown so attached to them and worked really hard to keep them alive even though I'm not naturally gifted in that area. But seeing them in such a miserable state got me feeling all E.R.-ish and I said, "Not on my my watch!" and got the defibrillators out. Well, actually, I got fresh potting soil and some fertilizer, but you get the picture. I trimmed all of them down to wee stubs and replanted and fed and watered them and put them in sun-shiny places and said a little prayer and then waited.
And waited. And waited some more. Gosh plants take a long time to come back to life.
Well, yesterday I checked on them and behold the miracle:
Alright, I know it's just a geranium, and that geraniums are pretty resilient but you should have seen the carnage back in September. This was nothing but gnarled ugly twigs. And now look at it. Full of hope and promise and possibly aphids, all ready for the mild California autumn and winter.
Now if only my one original plant would just look a little hardier.