My thriving plants
I have always had a thumb that just killed plants - even cacti.
I enjoy plants but—like my mother—I seemed to always murder them in some way shape or form. Underwater, overwater, not enough sun, etc.
I didn’t inherit my Grandma Donelson’s green thumb.
Interestingly, through my sobriety, and I also calmed down my nervous system so it’s not super anxious and busy - perhaps that’s why. I give these poor plants the attention that they deserve, you know like paying attention to how they’re thriving or drooping, and watering them.
It struck me as a microcosm of my better health - in mind and body. That these damn plans that I bought over a year and a half ago have sprouted.
So much so that I think I’ll need to repot one of them this summer.
I think the the - I’ve outgrown my original pot - is such an apt metaphor for my progress and where I am in life right now.
Lovely!