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ROOTBOUND Repot that plant, you. It sits across the table breakfast lunch and dinner every day at armslength silently shrieking for attention more concrete than a glance. Were it not a species happy to be tightly bound this would already be a matter of past tense. The last time this notion took hold it was potted wrong so that crooked and unbalanced were the words for the day. Live with the bend of a stem set rigid in contortion as the head of this thing seeks ever to show its face to the sun. The plant will live at least a while longer. Think to be embarrassed just a little that this gimpy living thing sits where it cannot be missed dressed in an empty cottage cheese container. Never mind that bit of pride at your miserable efforts to recycle. Good intention can be misplaced. You are drowning in it. Over-water, under-water, sunshine and dark, invest in plants with a little of their own resourcefulness. This one will live: repot it.
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