I have re-potted all my plants, which should have been done long ago. Most of these, I brought from the Old Country two and a half years ago. Two I adopted from our temporary home at Water Street, and two poinsettias I bought over a year ago before Christmas with a guarantee that they would last three weeks. Of the plants from the Old Country, I planted one outside, and I am afraid this cold winter has killed it.
If I had known that we would have a big house here I wouldn't have given away most of my plants. I only brought my very special favourites. I hope the ones I left behind are happy with their new families.
I know I am ridiculous about plants. I have recently read some books and watched these amazing BBC documentaries about the life of trees and plants (I now know that banana is not a tree, but grass). For them, there is just as much meaning of life as for people, or more because they are not distracted by trivialities. I don't play Mozart to my plants - although they are free to listen with me if they want to - and they don't have names, but I do talk to them. In terms of "That's a new shoot, well done". And I am upset when they don't feel well. One of them almost died some months ago, and I was about to throw it away, but I gave it another chance, and it's now grown big and strong.
During re-potting, I realised that I had profoundly neglected one of the adopted plants. I am not fond of it, but I have taken on the responsibility, and it's unfair not to treat it like everyone else. I am going to be particularly nice to it. It blooms nicely every now and then.
My barrel cactus is growing an offshoot. Since it typically takes years I am not sure I'll live long enough to see the result.