The truth of the matter is, I have a history of bad luck with houseplants. It all began with the unfortunate demise of my cactus, Spike, when I was about 9 years old. For a long time, I told myself I lacked a green thumb. My bad luck definitely  wasn’t for lack of care, though. For years, I over-loved my plants. To death. I wasn’t unlike a well-meaning but forceful grandparent, forcing food upon all visitors, family and guests alike, whether you liked it or not. The waterings were frequent and plentiful. And deadly.

But, with time, and effort, I began to improve. I started with properly researching each plant that came into my care. Gradually, I became capable of keeping plants alive. For a while, there wasn’t much progress past that. Keeping them alive. It’s a good start! I started taking abandoned orchids into my care a few years ago. Keeping them alive, but nothing much more than that. I tried in vain for a long time to re-bloom my plants, but to no avail. But this Spring I have finally reached the pinnacle in my journey as a plant-rearing novice. My phalaenopsis orchid has


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