My mother’s Boston fern is gargantuan. It is beyond anything you could ever purchase at a fern supply institution. (Nursery) The fact that it was her mother’s, now passed down to her, and next to me, is a lovely thing. (Okay…maybe to another sib?) I am honored to prune it when I am visiting. At the same time, I think, “This is truly larger than life. It could eat me?”
Thus, I dedicate this missive to my son, who assisted in the production of “Little Shop of Horrors,” a musical which has never been my favorite, yet I am scrambling to find a theme. A giant blood-thirsty plant? Well, I think I get it. The writers/authors/lyricists had their own mother’s plants to tend.
This fern is absolutely deserving of the entire room it occupies..
Your daughter also assisted in that production!
Oops…was it your shindig and not your bro’s? Yikes!