Bathroom Potty

The parents and friends' parents offered me cuttings of plants some time back; I brought back some that might work in my space, always asking "can I put this in my bathroom?". It's a question I've taken to asking at nurseries and wherever I see a plant I like. A puzzled, slightly insulted look usually follows. Friends walk away, pretending not to know me. But that's where most of them will be headed, so I must brave the looks, brace for desertion of friends and with courage ask. Most of the plants I fancy tend to need full tropical sunlight, or good partial exposure, neither my room or bathroom can provide that. As a result I've settled on an orchid, a mint plant, a couple of mother-in-law tongues, an aloe, a very fragrant camphory herb and some weeds. The Wandering Jew seems particularly hardy and is flowering. Happy surprise.

Repotted the lot into visual appealing containers today, fingers crossed they survive. My fingers are so not green they might as well be black. I keep killing perfectly hardy species with too much attention or complete neglect. Completely staying away from the Devil's Ivy, and being as restrained as possible with the succulents. I keep trying, though, despite all the plants I've killed. I must claim my inheritance. If both the parents are green fingered the child must be, too. I refuse to accept that they've not passed this trait on.

I shall defiantly keep planting!