I potted up some plant cuttings yesterday. They've been growing in jars for a while because I haven't had it together to stick them into the pots of dirt left over from the plants that died while I was running hither and yon for five years tending to Other Matters. My big aloe and a couple of cacti survived, everything else expired. I have to be honest and say I don't miss most of the dead ones. Several of them were given to me by people who were moving, etc. so they weren't my choice in plantage and also, I just plain had too dern many and I'm not the type who can throw them out with a clear conscience. My dad's mom was once given a plant she didn't like and didn't feel she could just throw it out either, so she put it close to the edge of a table that shook every time a train went by five or six times a day, and she'd also bump the table every time she passed it, and finally it fell on the floor and broke so she could get rid of it in peace. But I didn't even go that far, didn't neglect them on purpose, it just sorta ... happened while I was busy with Other Things.
A fresh start is good sometimes, anyway. I plan to replace my red and green shamrocks (oxalis) tout de suite, and then we'll see what else.
I love messing with plants and would adore working in a greenhouse or having a little greenhouse of my own someday. Don't feel like this neighborhood is safe enough to have one in the yard, though, so I will be content messing dirt around in a pot with a big spoon in the kitchen sink like I've done since I was little, and going to botanic gardens for the Greenhouse Effect. I looooove the smell of peat moss in the morning. Probably because my ancestors grew up in some Irish bog.