Serenity now!

I have spent the last several hours sorting though the clutter that is our lovely home. I confess, neither the Daddy nor I is a neat freak. Or even relatively tidy. We are both pile-ers. Sometimes, like now, the piles get out of control. So, I talked him into an impromptu party. Tomorrow. Nothing like motivation to get me moving to tidy up, and to get him moving to claim he has homework to do. :) It is all good, though. Got the family room done, including behind and under couches. Got the kitchen counters (mostly) decluttered.

Decluttered enough to decide I needed to work on our plants. So, out came the pots, the soil , the shears, the fertilizer, the rooting hormone, and the plants to repot, trim, root, clean, and water. I think I clogged the disposal with some perlite. Or maybe vermiculate. I don't actually know the difference. My pothos is growing like it lives in the rainforest. Inches per week. The Daddy bought this horrible pot-vase-thingy, which I mocked endlessly when he brought it home, but he really likes, so I rooted some pothos and stuck in there. Darn if the dang things doesn't look gorgeous with these lush green, -heart shaped leaves overflowing the top and wrapping around the sides. The hanging parent plant has to be trimmed or it reaches the floor every two months. It may be time for some merciless pruning. The cuttings grow like weeds as soon as they hit the jar of water! Guess what I am now thinking of giving away for Christmas??? Speak now if you don't like plants. *smile*

On the other hand, we have this sad little spider plant that was doing so well last year, I gave all its spiderlets away. Now it just looks sad and scraggly. I unpotted it today to find the roots were withering away, so after teasing the Daddy about killing my plant, it is now in the plant hospital. We are anxiously waiting to see if our "greenhouse" (the south-facing bay window) is enough to revive it. It looks pathetic in the place where my uber-lush pothos used to hang.

Now, if I could only keep the cats out of the palm. They like the fronds, so they kill each new one as it opens. We have a kitty-free master bedroom (which we don't actually sleep in, and is essentially a giagantic closet). My poor palms might have to move in there. Unfortunately, taht means I will never see them. Then what is the point?

The point is that I find endless satisfaction digging my hands in the dirt. I don't actually know that much about plants, so mostly I learn how not to kill one, next time. I need "Plants for Dummies" because the books I have assume I have more knowledge than "plants grow in dirt (usually) and need water."

It is all good. I find peace and joy in the process of bringing forth live from a dying plant, or growing something where nothing used to be. If only my lettuce would grow larger than 3 inches across, we might actually eat something I grow this year. Or maybe I will just learn how to NOT kill lettuce next year.

Either way, I like working with the Daddy on our plants. It gives us something to spend time together on, something which is just ours and we don't have to include anyone else in. Except sometimes the Girl. But that is fun too, just different. (She is growing tomatoes. I learned that this time I should not water them quite as much. We've tried this before.)