I'm not very good with plants. My only success so far has been a very beautiful and prosperous red primrose and another not so beautiful but the more easy going indoor plant. I looked after both of them for more than 3 months, kept them in good health and spirits and enjoyed their green fresh charm every day. Alas, when I went away for summer holidays I totally forgot to make arrangements for their further well-being and when I returned home a month and a half later I found two sad dry corpses.
When I remembered this episode the other day I was swept by pity and sadness. I recollected the joy I drew from seeing the results of my everyday care and I as it is in our human nature personified the plants to provide them with human feelings. Certainly they must have experienced a contentment of being looked after. I imagined that every day they waited to be watered, that they got used to the regular source of food and were happily growing in the caring atmosphere.
And then, one day they were looking forward to it as usually but nothing came, not even the next day or the day after or during the next week. It was a hot dry summer so their feeble attempt to absorb some humidity from the air came to nothing.
I left them helpless in their nicely decorated pots. As plants were not designed to move, they can't go to the tap and water themselves. They were at my mercy and couldn't do anything else then dry. It is the thought of futile waiting, and slow dying in growing disappointment that saddens me most.
And of course, I KNOW, that plants have neither brain nor soul.
