I eyed a Christmas cactus the other day, thinking maybe a cactus could survive under my care. I don't really want to concede the point that I am death to flora, though. I don't want to think that living organisms are handed their execution papers when I am handed the nursery receipt. I'm tired of potted sobs emanating from my environmentally-conscious canvas bag on my way home. This can't be who I am, a figurative wanted poster on plant-frequented post offices warning all from crossing my path.
So far, I've managed to keep this guy alive for the past few months:
I call him Zippy. He's a Zebra Plant. Initials ZP ... which obviously leads, yes, to the name Zippy.
Of course, Zippy's supposed to look like this guy:
And ... well, he did kind of look like that when I bought him. But, hey, Zippy's still alive isn't he! So I can't be categorized as a complete failure in this instance!
Buoyed by Zippy's lack of immediate doom, I have adopted FourPointFive:Now, the fact that One, Two, Three, and Three's makeshift-terrariumed-off-shoot Point Five, all bit the dust has FourPointFive really REALLY worried. FourPointFive is refusing to let down his guard by relaxing his leaves into a more horizontal, less don't-touch-me-don't-touch-me-please-please-please-I-want-to-live-don't-touch-me kind of stance. But Zippy is being a good plant-mate, cooing across the front room to FourPointFive that it isn't CERTAIN he'll die ... be positive.
I think we can all take something away from Zippy's example: Be positive.