Confession: I am a plant thief.
If a plant has shoots growing out around the bottom, or leaves that look like they would root well, or seeds hanging out in the open, they will end up in my pocket headed for home. I can’t seem to help myself.
If you invite me over to your house, you’d better check your inventory good, both before and after. Some of it will be gone.
I am now banned from five states in the Midwest.
I have to label my starts by the place from which I took them, because I usually don’t know what they’re called until later. Alden Street rosebush. Willow Street bean trees. Grandpa’s nursing home plant. Spearmint from R— park.
And that doesn’t even touch the plants I actually ask for.
(Exhibit A entered into evidence:)
I don’t seem to have as many friends as I used to; I don’t get it. On the other hand, I have some really great plants…
You should probably help me think through the ethics of this, although I can’t say I’ll reform. What? You don’t think a blog audience is the preferred counselor of morality? Alright. If you don’t give me good advice, I’ll have to ask my pastor—but he’s upstairs right now.
* If anyone takes this post seriously, he or she will be buried alive in moist potting soil and then dug up and watered.
** If anyone does not take this post seriously, don’t say I didn’t warn you.