Moving On With What I've Got

I  have this succulent from Ikea. I don't even know what it's called, exactly, but I was very happy to have it, because you see, I once had a fern, and I tried very hard to care for that fern. But it died. Over Christmas. I had even made a homemade upside down water bottle self watering thing. It worked; the fern took that water. And then it died because it wasn't enough.

I wasn't going to risk it the next time. After getting an annoying heather plant that sheds its buds all the time, prompting me to get a dust buster, I was so proud to get a succulent. I see them growing everywhere around Seattle. Between every nook and cranny. Literally. That's where they seem to grow. They thrive because they don't need much care. You only have to water them every two weeks or so. Granted, I've never looked this up, and perhaps only gathered this information from the price sticker on the plant. Which could or could not explain why I cam home the other day and one of the stems looked like death. It was green on the top, green on the bottom, but black in the middle. With the slightest touch the stem fell to pieces, the center of it not even shriveled. It was moist, it was dark, it looked just like the dirt in which it sat. And it looked like a plague had over taken it.

I was just so sad. My succulent! My last hope! I'm supposed to live a life with a huge garden, for both edibles and lovely flowers. What does this mean if I can't even keep a succulent going? But instead, I simply removed it and put that one stem in it's proper place: the trash can. And on my shelf the succulent lives on, lopsidedly in the pot. Because sometimes death just happens. But I'm not going to let it distract me from the beauty that remains, and I'm certainly not going to let it rain on my parade. Or plague my plants.

My succulent, right at home and
moving on rather nicely, thank you!

In Progress,

Lacy