|Ofdelle with her buddy Ofxxxx, who is visibly healthy and thriving|
Ofdelle is dying.
I got her several Saturdays ago, from a plant store near my house. A friend gave her to me. I named her the way the women are named in The Handmaid’s Tale, but the plant’s being Of(Me) is a sign of affection, not subjugation, certainly not slavery.
Unfortunately I still went to a dinner in BGC the day I got her, and when I fell asleep (no surprise) in my Uber ride the pot tipped over and the soil spilled.
Ofdelle has never been the same.
I am new to plants, and theoretically I know that this particular variety does not need a lot of attention: just a bit of sunshine and a sprinkling of water once a week. I must be so dumb as to bungle this one, right?
I tried putting the soil back but to no avail.
Today I look at her and try to make sense of the loss and her impending death. It’s a hit and miss. On this one I missed, but next time I will know better.