Confession: I am a plant killer. I have a black thumb. I am where seemingly healthy plants (flowers herbs, bulbs, what have you) come to die. I love everything about growing my own things, the excitement of germination and watching something (inanimate) thrive before my eyes. I love the colors, the fresh, new green of a young plant; the water color landscape of a pansy, the white and blue of a budding flower. I love the smell, that perfect fragrance of a real bloom about to emerge, the thrilling scant whiff of spice as you walk by a potted herb. I love getting a seedling and digging my hands into soil and making it a new cozy home. I'm just a complete failure at it.
Enter this record of accountability. One of my new years resolutions was to "consume less, create more" and with the incredibly grey winter we've been having in DC, I've been craving the magical aura of living things in my apartment. So begins the cycle of life and death I seek to reap. Here I'd like to document my journey in the hopes that through personal accountability and hopefully outside assistance I can conquer my planticidal tendencies. Please help.
