I typically manage adequate care for whatever plants I bring home, but along the way I've killed one of everything. Sometimes my laziness or ignorance has totally been the problem, but sometimes things just wither for no reason anyone can figure out. A few years ago when I was dealing with problems in my relationship, the responsibility of indoor gardening became too much of a psychological burden altogether. So I gave away all my plants, breathed a sigh of relief, and moved on to other things.
Recently it occurred to me I might be ready to start again; I picked up a hardy-looking aloe vera plant at a local nursery and we're learning to love each other.
In the picture above, everything has fallen into decrepitude. Who cares why? Drought, inattention, pests -- it could be anything, and the result is the same. The important thing is that the biggest, roomiest pot of all still shows signs of life, imploring you not to retire your fork and spade just yet.
By the looks of the emotional terrain on display here, you may not be the master gardener you thought you were. That's just fine, people (like plants) go through many seasons, and inconsistency is thoroughly human. But dwelling on your failures may cause you to overlook the small patches in your life that still need tending. The RWS Five of Cups is very clear in this regard. Mourn your losses, but not at the expense of what's survived. See that bridge in the background? Get over it already.
