Nun completes predestined transformation into crazy plant lady.

I've written here before about how my collection of African violets has been slowly occupying every reasonable space in my little one-bedroom lake place. Today it finally happened: after the annual repotting binge, I contacted bork and told him to come get the one I'd promised him at Thanksgiving dinner.

Fun fact: my paternal grandmother had a green thumb. She grew an impressive number and variety of indoor and outdoor plants for most of her adult life. I seem to be good with only one species, but it's doing well enough that I have more than I ever intended to. I like to think that they're growing in green, fuzzy commemoration of her.

My dad, too, was a plant fiend of a different sort: not every house in my neighborhood growing up had prickly pear cactus, agave, eucalyptus, stag horn ferns, and native Floridian cycads. He was a botany major for a time in college before an especially good professor turned him on to microbiology. I've seen the beautiful drawings of plants that he did in high school. And he evidently transmitted his plant geekery to me; see my Sydney tag for details.

tiny Mom update

While I was schlepping potting soil down the ridge, Good Sister called with a couple of pieces of good news. First, she spoke to Mom on the phone for the first time in weeks. However cranky Mom was, that's better than not talking. Second, the guardianship hearing may be July 5th, which is a significant improvement over August 2nd.