Please forgive me for that title. I couldn't help myself.

Here's what I've managed to do again:

Kill a perfectly good plant.

Remember the little chive seeds I planted with such great hopes of participating in Heidi's decorating challenge?

I think they're dying.

They started out with nice little sprouts. And I posted about them, and Goslyn commented that chives are hard to grow indoors, and I felt a wave of foreboding, but I persevered.

And for awhile they looked cheerful and happy. And I kept them in the windowsill and watered them when they seemed to need it.

And then they started to get a little droopy. And then...the potting soil they were sitting in seemed to get all white and moldy. And so I didn't water them for a long time, hoping it would all dry up and go away. And I tried to sort of pick the yucky stuff off of the top layer of potting soil. And then the soil seemed really dry so I watered them again.

And now, here's what we have:



Some extremely droopy, pathetic little cups of chives in moldy potting soil.

Sigh. I tried.

I have an extremely spotty track record with plants. Last year for Mother's Day Eric and the girls picked me out a beautiful little miniature rosebush, and I loved it and I planted it by my front door, and tended it carefully and with the best of intentions. But the poor little rosebush must have been doomed the moment it passed into my care, because I have never seen a plant die so fast.

Until my poor little chives. I think I'm going to put them out of their misery and find something else to look pretty on my windowsill. Something that is not a plant.