You may call it an affair - I mean, me and my plants. I water them late at night. When no one would catch my Martha Stewart humming, as steady drops of water go on a free-fall from my window. It is a matter of self-sacrifice as well. The pots keep the same window from getting shut. So when rain passes and a shear blows water towards my room's direction, it can soak everything - including the pillows I lay my head on at night.
Ours isn't a perfect arrangement. There are nights when I completely forget to water the plants. I would see them the next day, their leaves wilting and the earth which hold them in place dry and crumbling. They have already shed countless leaves for me. I in turn, have pulled weeds that stunt their growth. I try to make up for my shortcomings. Especially now that I have grown used to the little shade they provide when I forget to drop the curtains in the morning.
Two months and I find it amazing that we have gone this far. I could have neglected the plants and let them die, as new interests take my attention. But I stood my ground this time, stood longer than what this Eden Project and the home-maker spirit used to sum everything that is to me. Because once gardening had slip off my mind, and my misplaced direction miss where my old passion lies, I will have to start over, with a new set of garden plants, and cliche words to describe the feeling of doing it again, like I didn't make attempts to grow plants almost every year.