Earlier this summer I had one of those encounters with nature, the sort that makes you wonder at the uncanny interconnectivity of things ... suddenly, from the edge of the pond, a frog. All eyes in the half light. He leapt out onto the edge and stared at me. I stopped playing. He stood still. I watched a while then picked up the tune again...
I am a plantaholic!
I don’t know when I started gardening by stealth; I guess you could say it crept up on me. A sneaky little pelargonium here. A covert aeonium there. But one thing led to another and before I knew it what had begun as a harmless (and relatively affordable) habit had turned into full-blown plant dependence.