Olof’s mom came by last night with a little present for me, a gorgeous ivy geranium. The flowers are dark pink with soft white “highlights” (for lack of a better word). She’s had hers hanging outside the front door all summer long, and every time I walked past it I almost turned green with envy. Now I’ve got my own little plant, rooted and carefully nurtured by my mother-in-law, and I don’t have to be jealous anymore. (Though I wouldn’t blame any of you if you were a tad bit jealous of what a great mother-in-law I have!)

When I was taking the picture of my lovely new addition, I also took a picture of my tray of cuttings:

I’ve got probably forty cuttings there, most from my own plants (five I got from Carolyn and one I bought on Tradera). I’ll probably have double that, at least, after I cut back my big plants over the next few weeks. Where I’ll put them all I don’t know, but I’m sure I’ll figure out something. I’m not sure I’m up to all the emailing, packing, and shipping that goes with selling or trading them, but I might have too many to do anything else with. I suppose I could just pawn them off on all my family and friends.

Oh! That just reminded me of something I learned last night. As Olof’s mom was leaving I thanked her for the plant and she chided me jokingly, saying that Swedish tradition has it that if you thank someone for flowers that the flowers will die. She said that a lot of old ladies, when given flowers, will say, “I’m not thanking you for the flowers,” but of course that’s just a backhand way of saying “thank you” and doesn’t count. Or rather, it does count as thanking, which makes it not count as not thanking, which puts the flowers in jeopardy. Who knew getting flowers was such risky business?