I am a notorious plant killer, but so far since last year I am managing to keep a fleet of them alive through sheer obsession and frequent Pinterest research. They are all named Bob.
Very little besides reading on the couch next to Trav makes me happier than wandering through a garden section right now, so my single-mindedness about this can’t be all bad, right? As a t-shirt I found says, gardening is cheaper than therapy and you get tomatoes. (Yes, I am still going to therapy, too, but tomatoes.)