I’m not a good plant mom. I’ve killed succulents and herbs and I might be currently killing a small palm tree I have. I just can’t tell what they need from me.
I can’t tell you, or even myself, why I do certain things. Why I take my socks off every night before bed, or why I pick my fingers until they bleed. I can’t tell how I start or stop doing certain things either — how I stopped having the intrusive thoughts I had as a … Continue reading there’s a kind of magic in the force of habit.