We stayed with a lovely friend in the summer, and her house was filled with plants. It felt alive, almost breathing somehow, and I wanted that for our house too. Wanted plants trailing around the banisters and creeping across bookshelves.
I’m not well known for my green fingers, but sometimes ignoring past experience in favour of joyful optimism is more fun.
So now there’s a creeping fig (I think) in a cheery red enamel jug in the living room.
And by my desk in the attic is, er, actually I’m not sure what it is. I did ask but I can’t remember. Any suggestions? Angel hair fern perhaps?
As I left the shop I heard ‘it’s rather delicate’. Oh dear.
We already had one plant, brought back from the brink several times, which lives on the bathroom windowsill.
Maybe I just like the drama of a rescue.