A Penumbra Of Plants.

When I came in to work this morning, this was the scene of shadows cast onto the wall above my desk. The little office I share with a colleague receives a nice blast of early morning sunlight.  The windowsill thus provides a perfect place to grow houseplants.  My colleague is one of those people blessed with a "green thumb", and she has a lovely, healthy collection flourishing there. My Editor and I, on the other hand, have brown thumbs, and can kill anything.  It doesn't help at all that our apartment is north-facing and receives absolutely zero direct sunlight - ever.  During the summer, we were given  some cuttings from a 30 year-old clivia plant by our neighbors, also green-thumbed.  It was fine while the lily could live outside on the balcony, but now it's way too cold, and too dark inside.  So I took Ms Clivia into work so she can hang out with the other plants under my colleague's tender care for the winter.  Her shadows are the short, wide ones on the right.  We are now concerned that she will do so well before the spring, that her lovely, orange blossoms will appear, my colleague will want to keep her, and a fierce custody battle will ensue…
Strangely, there's something almost x-ray-like about those monochrome shadows.