i killed it. it's crinkled, dried up, and gone. i suppose winter isn't a good time to attempt gardening, especially since we are particularly frost-prone this year.
i guess i'm not cut out to be a gardener.
plants have no audible voices to warn me when i neglect them.
like when i leave them in the bathroom too long.
because i didn't want them to die from frost.
i didn't want to lose it to the elements, so i took away all the elements and it still died. because it needs the elements. like the kid who can't play outside because his parents are too afraid of germs and cuts and bruises and emotional turmoil and dirt. so he lives a sterile life. in the dark, clean, uninjured. but still dead.
dried up, crinkled, gone.
the heather is outside now, watered, in the sun (gorgeous day). i hope it is forgiving. i don't expect miracles. if all else fails, the tiny leaves and the still-vibrant-purple flowers make a pretty sachet, though i'm thinking the over-all 'you killed me' vibes aren't good for home use.
and, once again, i learn that i can't keep something alive. or someone.
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