There are many things I love about the fall. I love the changing colors, the cooler temperatures, the way the light changes and how it looks early in the morning and early evening.
What I don't love is bringing in plants off the porches.
Every year I talk myself into believing that I don't have as many as the year before and it will be a piece of cake to get them in.
Lord, help.
It is, of course, Husband's fault. He started with a bromeliad or two, and now we have fifteen or so. When he purchased them, he was told they were verrry valuable, because when the mother plant produced a baby, she died.
HA.
Our mothers have two or three babies and seldom kick the bucket.
It is my suspicion that bromeliad heaven is pretty empty because they are still here, producing madly.
Since they are so verrrry valuable, Daughter will be rich in her inheritance. By the time we die, she should have so many it will be impossible to walk through the house.
Most of the plants I purchased this year were caladiums, which I never bring inside, nor do I save the tubers for next year. They begin to droop in October and I toss 'em.
I purchased one fern.
We have moved plants for two days! The sun room looks like a jungle, which is supposed to be good for you, isn't it? I hope we didn't bring in too many spiders, but you never know. We've also brought in lizards.
Anyway, I thought I'd just drop by and whine a little. I ain't able to do anything else.
Not today, anyway.
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