African Violets

I have found such comfort in the blogosphere. I keep in touch with relative strangers with keen interests that are the same as mine: photography, grandkids, teaching, reading, writing, nature, politics, gardening, volunteering, healthcare.

This is the kind of thing that keeps we middle-aged folks healthy, despite the doom and gloom claiming that Baby Boomers (post WW II; 1946 - 1955) are going to drain the healthcare system and all have dementia.

I am of the Generation Jones (1954 - 1964), but read more here about the different generations.

This is what keeps me going on days like today, when I have a cold, and cannot, nor should not, venture out to visit with my hospice clients.

I received an e-mail from a fellow blogger, @ Rusty's Retreat, who offered to help me figure out how I am killing my African Violets (his are incredible!). He has 'coons, birds, and all manner of creative photos.

I was so happy. I think I've boiled it down to the issue with the soil.

Tomorrow hubby will trek out and get me some new African Violet soil.
I DO have a green thumb.

My Dad used to have a ton of these plants all over the house. He watered them every week, nurturing them with love.

I think I have rather neglected them. Ah me, off I go.