My fellow chicks and I write about murder. We would absolutely NEVER consider killing someone in real life. (I think?) But when it comes to plants, if their death was considered a punishable crime, I’d be charged with involuntary manslaughter.

I was recently a keynote speaker for a local nonprofit that supports pediatric orthopedics. It was a wonderful event, and the hosts gifted me with a beautiful plant at the end of it.

This is the plant’s status at the moment. Flower gone. Leaves clinging on for dear life:

I’m great at needlepointing plants. But give them life? That’s another story. I was thrilled when I received two wax amaryllis plants for Christmas. They’re totally new to me and they are magical. You set them down, ignore them, and then one day… Ta da!

I thought I’d found the perfect plant for a black thumb like me. Sadly, this is what they look like now:

I tend to anthropormorphatize non-living things – and yes, Spellcheck, I know that’s not a real word – so I feel personally responsible for any plant that bites the dust under my care.

Yet there are two plants in our house that despite all odds, continue to thrive. They’re easily over a decade old. Maybe even older. The nursery where I bought them was torn down years ago, replaced by a giant apartment complex. When I leave the house now, I have to duck out of the way of the one on the right, which has started to grow by toward the sun coming through the front door…

I love these guys. They are my plant children.

There’s a metaphor here somewhere. About resilience. About survival. About reaching for the light and standing strong in the face of someone who at best manages to water you every three weeks. I will look to these hardy specimens for inspiration during the tough times.

But these two sturdy beauties are the exception at Chez By-Rem, and not the rule. So, do flora a favor and don’t gift me with any form of plant life. Odds are that it will not end well for them.

Readers, where do you stand on plants? Green thumb? Black thumb? And do you have a better metaphor than me?