In Which We Are Planted

 

I have no idea where I got the impression that the black plastic pots plants come in from the nursery are not suitable as long-term housing for the plants, but I have for decades been adamant about transferring them into what I believed were more suitable containers.  More informed gardeners and professional landscapers have insisted to me, using small words because they thought that's what I needed, that that is not true, that the black plastic pods are just fine.  But a) they're wrong and b) those cheap pots may be utilitarian, but, man, are they ugly and c) shut up. 

When I had my house and garden up in the canyon, my obsession with repotting was no big deal.  I had a big patio with plenty of room to work in and any mess I made (and I always made a mess) was easy to clean up with a hose and a broom.  Now that I have relocated to an apartment with only a few insolent house plants, my efforts at giving them a new, more attractive spot are considerably more difficult. 

The subject has unfortunately come up again because late last year I bought a really charming fiddle leaf ficus.  It has been a great addition to my tiny collection of house plants, and so I decided it was time to give it a real pot.   Repotting is not really very difficult, but since I have to pull it off in the kitchen, The whole operation is a little more complicated.

Especially since the ficus is fairly tall and the pot is sizable.  But I am a genius and also not all that fussy about the final product.  I always explain to any plant that has come into my grasp "You have two options: live or die." 

In the end, it all came out fine

Ficuses are notorious for going into shock if you move them around and then dropping all their leaves to prove have a delicate they are, but this one seems to be less crazed than that and I hope it will be happy in its new home. 

Boys I'd like to put in a pot:

Au naturel

Much like PhotoShopping, I have decided not to struggle against AI created beefcake.

Are these guys real?  They are real enough

If we can't tell easily if it's AI, then maybe it's not worth the grief of worrying.

AI slop?   I want to slop him

Classical

In Which We Revel in Some Domestic Bliss

 

This plant is a Purple Shield, it has some Latin name that I am not going to try to spell here.  I always thought they were cool because, uh, they're purple, ok?  I bought this one in February despite not being sure how well it might do inside here.  In fact, it has more than tripled in size since then.  That's a huge relief, when I had a garden, almost all of the plants would be thriving, minding their own business, and I would obsessively fuss over some sickly little specimen that was obviously never going to make it. 

Even better, it has apparently felt the call of spring and has set flowers.  I was delighted when I saw all the buds, but then the actual blooms turned out to look like puny orange dandelions. Oh well. 

In local cat news, I followed Diane von Austinburg's very sensible suggestion that I lure Octavia out from under the bed with treats.  Turns out Octavia is a snack whore.  I can relate.  Once she connected me with treats, she let me pet her and then once she let me pet her, she has started demanding attention.  

She slept with me this morning, which was really sweet except for the part about waking me up by yelling at me to pick her up and put her in bed.  She can jump up herself, but she has sort of a hard time with it.  I'm going to get some of those steps so I don't have to act as some kitty longshoreman.  Once she settled down, she set to licking my arms because apparently she didn't approve of my hygiene.  If you've never been licked by a cat, it is very much like being attacked with wet sandpaper.  Again, so sweet, except now my forearms smell like cat food.

Dudes I wish were yelling at me to get in my bed: 

Maybe he needs me to lick him.

Thoughtful and meaty, an excellent combo.

I just love a man with good balance.  I fall over enough for both of us.

I think I may have featured this guy sort of recently, but I'm too lazy to check.

Artistic buttchops.