It's been a family joke for a long time that I have a horribly brown thumb. My mother practically drips chlorophyl, she's so good with plants, but I once killed an air fern.
At my last job, I decided to have plants at my desk, but I didn't want it to become a collection of terracotta tombs. Ergo, I tried succulents-- cute little ones, in darling tiny pots. I bought one each time we visited Longwood Gardens as a special treat. Mr. M told his dad, and then I got a cutting from one of his, too. I've lost a couple, and they lose leaves from time to time, (and occasionally a cat will fling one off the windowsill) but for the most part they're holding up well.
A couple of weeks ago, I noticed that a fallen leaf had sprouted other, tiny leaves! This morning I transplanted it, and indeed, there's a long, healthy-looking root!
To go from killing all plants to being able to make a cutting-- impressive! (Erm... even if it was accidental.) Maybe eventually Mr. M will let me get a dog...
Insight from Different Versions of Psalm 126
12 hours ago