Memere's Christmas cactus

I took a clipping of my grandmother's Christmas cactus so I'd have something living to remember her by. The last time I was at her house, it was very large and in blossom. I really hope this one grows roots so I can transplant it soon. I have it in water now, by the window so it gets some sun. No roots yet!

Orchid tales

I don't know about any of you, but right now is the time of year that my orchid is usually dormant. I have special patience when it comes to orchids, however, because I attribute my interest in gardening to them. About 4 years ago, I worked in an office where it was perfectly chic to give and receive an orchid as a gift, but as soon as the flowers would die, the orchid plants (pot and all!) would end up in the garbage. I didn't know anything about them, but I just knew that couldn't be right.

So began my orchid rescue mission. I became an expert trash picker, which was slightly awkward since everyone else there thought they were dead. I think there was a time when I had five rescued orchids at home! I happened to live above a very cool gardening shop, and took one of them down to find out if it was still alive. The lovely girl who worked there showed me how to look at the roots to see if they are healthy, how to re-pot it and how to take care of it. I've had pretty good luck with orchids ever since. I say pretty good because I had a few shrivel up and die on me (I wasn't that great at remembering to water back then!) but I still have one happy little one, who you've seen here before, and I get a flower about twice a year.

Here's some orchid advice on Shelterrific, a favorite blog of mine.

Cutting back, in more ways than one

Remember this sweet little goldfish plant? The one we made a special hook for outside on our deck, the one that was so happy in the sun all summer? Well, once sweet little goldfish came inside, it started throwing down its leaves in protest. So this weekend, I couldn't take it anymore and went nuts trimming it back. I've heard that these plants go through dormant periods and sometimes drop their leaves in the process, but this was getting to be a bit much. Anyone have any advice?

Change you can count on

A lot can happen in six months. This became evident as I searched through my iPhoto albums for the perfect comeback post. On New Year's Day I took the two photographs you see above of plants I had moved from my Brooklyn roof deck to a rocky hillside in northwestern Connecticut, and I was searching for images of what the same plants had looked like last summer.

It's remarkable what's changed since these photos were taken. This country has changed dramatically—we have a new president taking over shortly (thank goodness, though I don't envy the guy his job right now), and we are in the middle of an economic crisis like none most of us have ever lived through, with millions of people losing their jobs in the last couple of months alone. Personally, I have lived through some of life's harsh lessons since last August—one week before closing on the apartment of our dreams, the bank decided against the very attractive mortgage they were initially offering, and we lost the place. A week later my beloved grandmother, the center of the universe for no fewer than 30 children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, succumbed to the illness that invaded our lives just under a year ago.

With so much changing so quickly, I can't help but think of these dead-looking perennials, which blossomed with such promise just months ago. And in these uncertain times, I must say I'm holding on to one thing I know for sure: that they will bloom again soon. With everything falling to pieces around us, at least we have that.