I really like cut flowers. We have an agreement. They brighten up the room. I often give them fresh water. Eventually, they wilt and brown, then I toss them into the backyard. Rabbits eat them. They decompose. It’s the circle of life. 

With living plants, the agreement should be different. But for whatever reason, under my supervision, they often don’t thrive. After I’ve failed them, I take the poor thing to someone with more plant talent than I and hand them over to a new home in personal defeat. Most of