The Thanksgiving cactus on the living room windowsill is setting buds! It's a miracle the poor thing survives. It was a grocery store impulse purchase a couple of years ago, blooming its head off when I got it. To my mind, it would be a one-season deal, for I did not expect it to live much beyond the bloom. And here it is, still kicking. It must appreciate extended periods of neglect. It gets a tiny shot of water every time its neighbors (African violets) droop over the sides of their pots.
Last year at Nanny's Christmas breakfast, Son #1's family gave me a cute planter with live succulents in it. They gave Nanny one just like it. Neither of us had much experience with succulents (except for my Thanksgiving cactus). We were told that all the plants needed was a once-a-month misting. In the hubbub of the morning, I came home without my planter, and it was spring before I thought to bring it home. It contained a couple of "hen & chicks" and one tube-like thing that looked like it ought to be growing on the sea floor. By the time I took custody, the "hen & chicks" looked kind of like palm trees - long "trunks" with a whorl of leaves at the top. The other thing - whatever it is - was kind of . . . pleated . . . and the tops of the tubes were slightly recessed; I thought maybe that was its water-catching mechanism. I set it on the back porch and faithfully misted it all summer. A couple of weeks ago, when night temperatures got cool, I brought it inside and set it on the windowsill above the sink, where the Richard Simmons Chia Head usually lives, and where a florescent light burns 24/7.
Every time I go to the sink, I see this planter and think that the tube-like thing must be the ugliest plant I've ever seen. Two days ago, a succulent plant care video popped up in some feed, and I watched it. It turns out that a once-a-month misting is NOT what succulents like; they need a once-a-month drenching/draining. So I immediately drenched/drained it. The next day, the tube-like thing (I keep meaning to look up its name) was fleshy, turgid, even. Its looks improved considerably.
I don't know what to do about the palm trees.
While I was writing this post, I noticed that the wrens were squawking like crazy, something I've come to recognize as their burglar alarm. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement, Cousin Roger's striped gray cat was trotting across the back yard, and the birds were following it in the trees, still squawking. They stopped when the cat went home. The next time they do this, I'm going to listen to see if there's an "all clear" signal. ;)
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