Sunday, March 18, 2007

Mothering Sunday

It's mother's day here in the UK for the benefit of my US and Canadian visitors who might think I've gone a little crazy. Well, crazier than usual at any rate. My youngest daughter has presented me with a lovely brooch which I suspect she has fleeced from someone. I expect I'll hear the full story later. My middle daughter has made a lovely card. Boo and Shaggy, my eldest dd,have also given me a huge wicker sarcophagus full of plants. They love it and if you like plants I'm sure it's really beautiful.
This was a lovely thought but I hate houseplants. I'm not good with them, they seem to sense my animosity at having something else to care for and promptly shrivel up and die. This thing is huge- there must be at least twelve plants in it, one of which is a kind of dark purple leaved thing that reminds me of dead butterflies and gives me the creeps. I know I'm an ungrateful recipient but my punishment is that I have to care for this thing and look at it forever as it occupies my favourite table top and I worry about water stains on the mahoghany.
I appreciate the sentiment behind the gift but if any of you ever, at any point, and for whatever reason become possessed of a desire to buy me a houseplant - pease don't. The deaths of a hundred African violets are already on my concience.
I love cut flowers, especially daffodils which are my favourites. Fresh flowers are so cheerful and always lift the spirits. Guess I'll have to go buy my own.

3 comments:

Sela Carsen said...

Me too! I hate when people give my live plants. It's cruel for me, and it's a death sentence for the plants. Well, here's hoping this one survives for a while. Except the dead butterfly one. Kill that one first.

Michelle Styles said...

I don't mind houseplants.

I figure if they last as long as cut flowers, then I have done well...

My problem is rather the opposite - -the occassional houseplant that decides to overstay its welcome. Cue the poinsetta from several years ago. Or my dh's great aunt's cane begonia that even after ninteen years of neglect has refused to give up the ghost. What did I do to deserve it?

Nell Dixon said...

I just feel bad because I don't like them and I know they went to a lot of trouble. But you'd think my husband would have taken a clue from the fact we've been married 22 years and have no houseplants because everyone he's ever bought has died. The exception is Spike, the cactus but he's been in foster care at my mil's for 9 months.