Leandro, your story brought back memories of a landlady I had back in the 1970s. The house I rented from her was next door to her home — a large Spanish-style house with stone patios covered with plants. In fact, plants were just about everywhere you looked inside and outside.

She carried a small penknife in the pocket of the smocks she always wore over her blouses. She used that knife for cuttings and to trim any of her brood that was getting gangly.

Another neighbor had the same obsession with plants and the two women shared cuttings. They’d take turns sitting in each other’s gardens and talk about plants for an hour or more while sipping daiquiris made with the juice of native sour oranges that my landlady grew in her backyard.

My landlady also sold plants at a fleamarket. She’d often come over to the house I rented from her and leave potted plants on the doorstep with notes telling me where and how to plant them!

Thanks for restoring a pleasant memory I haven’t thought of in many years and thanks for sharing your story with us here on Weeds & Wildflowers.

I was always a writer but lived in a bookkeeper’s body before I found Medium and broke free — well, almost. Working to work less and write more.

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