Over the weekend, on Sunday to be exact, when most Americans were in the stores purchasing cases of beer, bags of chips, tubs of guacamole, and firing up their big screen TVs for the Super Bowl festivities, I was at my local garden center buying houseplants :listens while everybody laughs: Ok, so I’m a dork. I admit it. I get excited about houseplants, specifically cacti and succulents. They are my weakness. I feel connected to them more than I do to other plants, but I don’t want to delve into some psychological examination as to why, as in why would I be attracted to fleshy, warm weather water-retainers with thick skin? Let’s not go there. Let’s just say I like them and leave it at that 🙂
So during my leisurely Sunday drive around the neighborhood, my car just sort of steered itself into the parking lot of the garden center. When I entered the greenhouse, an overwhelming feeling of euphoria washed over me . . . aaaah . . . Xanadu! I walked out with these two beauties:
And then there’s my pride and joy, my homegirl, my gem which I’ve lovingly cared for for years now. A rockin’ aloe plant that has produced two little babies. The guy at the garden center advised me not to transplant into a larger pot until the spring, to which I responded, “but the roots may be suffocating!!”. He calmly assured me it would be fine, and that succulents are hardy, tough and tolerant plants that can handle “abuse”. No wonder I respect them so much.
For the record, I did watch the Super Bowl, I did eat guacamole, I did drink a beer, and I did root heartily for New Orleans. So am I cool now? Or am I still a plant dork? 😆