Earlier this year, someone gave me a plant.
“You don’t understand,” I said. “I’m terrible at watering plants.”
He explained it was the kind that didn’t require much care, just watering once a week, and that it was the kind of plant that helped purify the air.
He’d put a lot of thought into the plant, and I installed it in my living room, where I did a good job of taking care of it. For awhile.
And then, once he’d disappeared from the scene, I found myself realizing after weeks had gone by that I hadn’t watered it. The plant started getting browner, and browner, and browner.
One day, I was somewhere around a healthy plant, same variety, and I realized how neglected my plant at home had gotten.
Thought I know Carol of May Dreams Gardens would be horrified—she recently Tweeted about a neighbor who’d thrown out a plant without composting it—I was cleaning the house today in preparation for Thanksgiving, and decided it was time for the plant to go. It’s a new season, and I’ve been in the mood, lately, to clear an awful lot out to make way for what’s coming.
I don’t really know what’s coming, but something must be, and so the plant had to go.
So mea culpa, composters. It had to happen today, and I still don’t have easy access to a compost bin. Down the trash chute the plant had to go.