I always wanted to make things grow. Wherever I lived houseplants thrived; cuttings sprouted leaves, Bonsais grew new branches, cacti bloomed. Colorful cut flowers in pretty vases always graced my table. I’d place the fallen blossoms in little bowls of water to let them live a while longer. When I finally had my own garden, I planted vegetables and berry bushes and thrilled at the bountiful yield of tomatoes, peppers, strawberries and more.

This year the trees and shrubs on my deck have betrayed me by dying. As for the white-spider-laced houseplants? I want to murder all the needy bastards.