Old Friends

(365 Day 245)

It’s the oldest in a collection of succulents, ivy, hibiscus, mother-in-laws- tongue, or fern that have either been passed to me by my grandmother or that I’ve nurtured along and passed to her in the last 17 years.  Sometimes they bounce back and forth, like my Ivy from the house on North Street, of which one of us always has an extra pot or two to share after a hard freeze.

They’re part of the family now.  Many have been fed, watered, coaxed to grow, and treated for disease longer than my children have been alive.  You can’t tend something that long and not feel like a mother tucking the kids in when covering them with a sheet on a frosty night.   Like children, they’ve responded differently to each environment we’ve moved to.  Some have dwarfed and some have flowered after a decade of nothing.

This is why I feel sick when it’s time to repot and they must be thinned.

Sounds a little intense as I reread.  Oh well, at least I wasn’t talking about the gnome.