So now I'm... a gardener?

When I was living in *that place* where I couldn't breathe the air, a friend brilliantly pointed out that perhaps some living green in my apartment would be a good idea. It certainly couldn't hurt. I, of course, have a history of killing plants. (And pet fish, but that's another story for another day and no I never did it on purpose and yes I still feel bad about it, thanks for reminding me.) In an attempt to change my track record, I acquired a couple of cute, extremely low maintenance, cacti. (Can we call them cactuses? "Cacti" just feels silly to me.)

By the time I came back to NJ I had kept my little cactuses alive for more than two whole months! They even survived the move! (They're hardy, those little buggers, and go for $10 or less at the grocery store around the holidays. Just sayin.)

So I was sitting around with nothing much to do but try to get healthy and watch my plants grow (or not grow - I don't think they've done anything other than not die so far), and I got to thinking about what life might be like once I get past the recovery phase and the preparation-for-what's-next phase, and I decided I'd like it to include more plants.

Of course I've had all kinds of fantasies about growing and canning my own tomatoes and harvesting my own strawberries grown in one of those funny terra cotta pots. But for the sake of starting off a little more pragmatically, I bought three packets of seeds, three teeny plastic pots, and three small plastic trays to catch the water that runs out the holes in the bottoms.

I planted basil, rosemary, and thyme. (Yes, like the song - sort of.)

I totally haven't killed them yet! They're growing! Soon I'll have to move them to bigger pots (since I put an entire packet of seeds into each 2" diameter pot, which is patently absurd)! I'M GROWING PLANTS AND THEY'RE NOT DYING!

I'm a little bit excited.