Yesterday my potted tulips were ruthlessly attacked and gnawed to death by some mystery fiend while Ross and I were out running errands. I haven't quite recovered from the shock yet. These weren't just any tulips, these were tulips I've had and nurtured since they were naked little bulbs last fall, so I was sort of, you know, invested.
This gardening thing has been more emotional than I expected! I had to cut back the weaker lavender shoots in my seed starter today and, seriously, I felt guilty about it! And when Ross and I were talking about flying to Raleigh to spend a week with his family I thought, I can't go, my plants need me!
I think this may just be latest manifestation of the old biological clock tick, tick, ticking away. My hormones are clamoring for a baby and, in the absence of one, are willing to accept leafy green substitutes. Weird. Oh well, it could be worse - at least I'm not collecting baby dolls or dressing my cats in tiny jumpers.