Recently, Ashley and I had been looking all over for a replacement for our venus fly trap. Come winter, when the fly traps are supposed to hybernate, our relatively warm appartement didn’t provide the propper conditions and our lovely little plant suffered a near fatal blow. We replaced it a couple of times–it would thrive in the summer and I’d always wanted a fly trap. (But, as a child, I inevitably and promptly killed them with my inability to resist the temptation to trigger the traps.)
We decided that we needed a perennial, and we had been looking for the right one for some time without any luck. On a whim, we decided to go into a small, sort of rustic looking plant store near the gym. I never see any customers in the store and, frankly, the owner seemed somewhat peterubed that we were disrupting his view as we entered the store. The first fern we picked out, he informed us (barely looking up from his newspaper) was unavailable. We persisted and then spotted the perfect plant–the name is the best part–“Fluffy Ruffles.”
Since then, I’m happy to say, our plant is thiriving (sitting in the soil next to the last remains of our fly trap, which I didn’t have the heart to unroot). I still haven’t seen another soul in the store; however the owner is there five days a week, usually standing in the doorway or reading at his desk. I learned later that he has been there for almost 50 years, and reviews say that he extensively researches each plant to make sure that it will be suitable for New York apartment living. So far, he’s been right!
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