I am now a serial killer of plants, but I used to be a plant mass murderer. I once killed seven with one blow and by blow I mean dehydration. I am slowly making my way toward horticulturists although that is a big fancy word for someone who has a few tomato plants, a few house plants and multiple pots filled with the dried, dead leaves of the previously living.
When I go into a garden shop the plants quake in their roots or in their pots. It has taken me a decade of practice and vigilance to develop the skills needed to keep a few plants alive for longer than six months (and that’s mostly because I started buying plants that could live through anything). I prefer to invest in plants that can live with or without sun, or seem to thrive on being root bound, dried out, and never fertilized. I am pretty sure these plants share a gene with the cockroach family otherwise they would have already met their demise under my loving care. They could probably live through nuclear holocaust and decapitation at the same time. These are the plants I am surrounded by. Mostly, because the rest of the plants are already dead.
It’s a dangerous world in here with me, and the dogs, and the child. Some plants get chewed or uprooted, some neglected and some knocked over (and then shoveled back in). Some plants get forgotten in the car, in the heat…for days. It’s a dog eat plant world around here.
I’m a serial killer: I kill plants. I wish there was a support group out there for people like me. I feel I could get better if just given the chance and the right talk therapy. The best I can hope for now is to get my own Television series. I’ll be like the Dexter of the plant world.