Friday Confessions: Psycho Killer, Qu'est que c'est

This week’s confession is a doozy. Try not to judge me too harshly, but I must confess that I am a destroyer, a killer of all things lovely, green, and potted. Plants, flowers, cacti, annuals, perennials . . . these things do not last long in my care. And it’s not like I try to snuff them out on purpose because I have a deep seeded hatred of things with roots. No. Actually I try very hard to keep them alive. Water, sun, plant food. Maybe therein lies the problem. I suffocate them until they wither into non-existence.

This is hard for me to admit because it makes me feel like a huge cosmic failure. Somehow I equate this with my ability to raise children. I should be able to help plants flourish in my home, as a mother. Instead my house looks like a greenhouse crime scene. And I must truly be sick because I let the dead things linger in their brown and dried out state . . . then I take pictures of them to post on my blog.

I killed this one in my sleep. When I woke up in the morning the leaves had mysteriously fallen off.

I know I treated this one poorly by placing him in a dark bathroom. He was fine with it for about six months, then this happened. His twin, however, is thriving. It’s the only plant alive in my house right now, and I totally neglect him. Go figure. Statistically he doesn’t have long though. (Why have I given this bamboo plant a masculine identity? I don’t know.)

These beauties died about six years ago and I actually chose to put them in a vase and showcase their lifelessness. I can’t just throw away the flowers the Husband gave me when he officially proposed. I know. I know. All fresh flowers die out. Doesn’t change the fact that they died while in my possession.

See. Sick and twisted. This doesn’t even include half the plants that have died on my watch in the last six years. I guess the Husband isn’t blameless in this either. He lives in this cursed plant zone too. It’s really a sad state of affairs. The Husband has refused to buy any more plants. But I love plants. What to do. What to do. I could go all old lady and buy fake greenery. But that seems like cheating because I’m not an old lady. I need something though. I’ve got an intense desire to water something!

Well, I’m feeling so much better now that I have gotten this off my chest. It still pains me every time I see a plant flourishing in someone else’s house though. Why are they better nurturers than me? Why can’t I kick this unwanted habit of foliage devastation? Why can’t I be one of the lucky ones? One of the lucky ones whose thumb is a lovely vibrant green. I would kill a million plants to have a thumb like that.

Note: For some reason we decided to try and grow our own tomato and pepper plants from seed this year. Take a wild guess at how well that is going. I'd rather just show you a picture of the seed packets if you don't mind.