A towering amaryllis in a tiny pot appeared on the doorstep. Despite a consistently brown thumb, I transplanted it. Predictably, it died. After suitable mourning and procrastination, I found space to hide yet another failure among other deserted pots.

Then, from the dead, abandoned amaryllis: one tentative green tip emerged.

Eileen gets along better with words than with plants, making house plant survival a small miracle.