Saturday, November 17, 2007

Thanksgiving cactus

When it comes to houseplants, I've got the black thumb of death. Over the past two decades I've only managed to keep a half-dozen plants alive for more than six months, but then my cats dig those ones up. Or pee in them. Equally deadly.

Right now my only surviving houseplant older than three months is a Christmas cactus, which I bought when Jimmy was a baby. It lived on a narrow bathroom windowsill in our Bellevue apartment, where it got lots of light and moisture. Since we moved to Ellensburg, the cactus has resided on a sunny windowsill above the kitchen sink, where the precipitous perch has been a sufficient deterrant against feline attack, and the conveniently located faucet helps me remember to water it (most of the time). I think the favorable change in venue has permanently altered its biological clock; the cactus now blooms starting in mid-November.

Serendipitously, this provides me with something lovely to look at while I do dishes, just in time for the holiday season when my kitchen is shell-shocked for weeks on end with dirty pots and pans from big family dinners and Jim's numerous baking projects. And anything that makes doing dishes more pleasant is something to be thankful for!

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