Some while back I was proud that I'd kept some houseplants alive in my apartment for so long – several years, in fact. I think I even blogged about it. That stretch of success has sadly returned to the default mode of my plant-raising efforts: plantpocalypse. A kind of vegetarian version of a Halloween slasher movie has played out over the last few months.
I now have only two sickly plants remaining, and both seem on the edge of meeting their Maker. I don't really know what I do wrong – I suspect I'm too unreliable as a waterer – too much water interspersed with not enough. But, I rationalize: don't plants in the real world deal with unreliable supplies of water fairly successfully? It does not rain exactly 1 mm every day, after all. I lack the right life philosophy to be a gardener, perhaps. I see unreliable environments as being character-building. I suspect my plants view it differently, and don't feel the need for building character.
The two current survivors:
The one on the left is probably already dead – the leaves are dry and brittle, despite retaining their green color. I pruned the other substantially, removing many yellow leaves and limp vines.
Anyway, at this rate, I don't have to worry about how they'll survive my upcoming two-week absence.
[daily log: walking, 2km]