Proof I’m not killing my plants

I know! What a shock. I used to be good with plants until about 1993. That’s when I began my many years working in the coffee business.

It was March—Springtime. In Portland. Oregon. It’s a place where it seems every yard, apartment terrace, and public sidewalk is filled with plants, most of them the flowering variety. Apparently, I traded my Florida plant skills for coffee skills. But, I’m pretty sure I could still make a cappuccino in my sleep, and I haven’t made one of those since 2016.

A few months ago I decided that I was going to make changes, and I wanted plants, and to really nurture them. I was just out with Bo. I put my plants in the sun for a spell.

Bo, who I only had to call by his name, Hey Don’t Munch on That, once.
Kind of hard to see, but there are pinkish new leaves sprouting. The plant is speckled with tiny spots of white paint, thanks to the ignorant apartment management who power sprayed paint on all the fences. They did this without even a hint they were going to do it. Had I known, I would have put my plants in the house. I am still pissed, and this happened in February.
New mini rose bud. It is very breezy here today. It was hard to focus the camera.

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