We had dinner the other night with my friend B., who is not so great with plants. Several of hers were dying on her window sills and she handed them off to me to restore to health.
One was a water-logged cactus. The first thing I did was put it out in the sun to dry out. It was still damp when I had to go back to Chicago, so I took it with me and set it in my big window there. It’s still a little damp, but I think it is starting to perk up. The leaves look like they are standing up more to me, and to make sure I wasn’t kidding myself, I asked G., and he thought the same.
The others I planted in my perennial garden, thinking they’d sink or swim. Two are mums, and I think they will pull through because mums are tough plants. The third is a Gerbera daisy, and I’ve never had one of those before. But after a week outside, it’s looking OK, and I’m feeling hopeful.
I’ve generally always had good luck with plants. When I was in middle school, I bought a mini-lemon tree at Epcot Center that looked like nothing more than a stick. My mom was sure it was dead on arrival. But once I got it home and planted it, it grew. It lived about 18 years in its pot indoors and even produced a few tiny fruit that were like crosses between tiny lemons and tiny oranges. It was kind of like having a pet, and I still feel happy whenever I think about it.