my mother has the greenest fingers i've ever seen -- in the horticultural sense i mean. whatever she plants, no matter how much of a state it's in when presented to her (all my plants from college for example), she revives them with her attention and they grow and bloom as though they are a different plant altogether. if they could speak they'd be shouting "we're going to live with amy -- allelujah!".
this started out as a regular sized camellia (around 12 inches in height). nowadays it's about to take over the shed...
she likes to grow things from cuttings - my cuttings rot. every surface with access to a window is full of thriving potted plants. my potted plants go yellow or brown and then shrivel up. my father has many a time recoiled in horror at yet another plant appearing on a windowsill, making it almost impossible for him to be in a room that is foliage free. he thinks she is obsessed. i think he is right.
the garden is beautiful. it's always bursting with colour and scent; even in the depths of winter there is greenery.
