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My lower back still aches when I think about the spring of 2005. I had just moved to a dry, windswept valley and foolishly tried to recreate a humid Queensland…
In the winter of 1998, I managed to rot an entire bench of rare slipper orchids in my home greenhouse. I had convinced myself that keeping their roots constantly wet…
The smell of decaying organic matter at the bottom of a garden pond is something you never quite forget. It is a sulfurous, thick stench that clings to your skin…
I still remember the smell of rot in my small greenhouse back in 1998. I had just acquired a collection of rare miniature orchids, and within three weeks, I managed…
My lower back still aches when I think about the spring of 2005. I was trying to acclimatize a delicate batch of tropical chilies to a dry, harsh highland climate,…
In the spring of 1998, I stood over a compost bin and wept over thirty-six dead orchids. I had drowned them. My fingers were black with rotten peat, and the…
My lower back still aches from hauling three massive clay pots across my gravel patio yesterday afternoon. I have spent over thirty years with my fingernails permanently stained by damp…
My lower back is aching today after spending four hours repotting overgrown climbers in the greenhouse. That rich, earthy smell of damp pine bark and compost is still clinging to…
I still remember the blistering summer of 2005. I had just relocated to a dry, wind-swept region and foolishly placed three of my prized orange birds of paradise on a…
My first rare orchid collection rotted to a smelly, brown mush in 1998 because I loved it to death with a watering can. I still remember the pungent, swampy scent…
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