Last night, I went outside to water the plants. Apparently, I was too late. I gasped in horror and started to recount how many days had passed since I paid the hanging plants a visit with my gas station jumbo-sized plastic cup of water. Surely not THAT many...
Then, I saw my breath and remembered. We are having a cold snap, we are under a freezing warning, we're enduring a break-out-the-gloves-AND-scarf kind of week. And now my plants are dead!?
This is my first ever home that I (we) own, with my first ever porch with real live hanging plants. I even picked the plants out to match the living room since you can see them through the windows! (I can't help it; I am obsessed with decorating.)
It's my first time. I never knew that beautiful hanging plants are KILLED when the first 20 degree winter wind comes blowing on their little branches. I feel so guilty. Like I left my babies out to be frozen to death, while we huddled inside under extra blankets, sipping hot tea and cranking the heat so high we had to use a humidifier to keep our skin from turning to leather.