I think "green." Aside from conserving water, paper, recycling, and using the swirly energy-saver bulbs -- though they don't illuminate reading material as well as old fashioned bulbs do -- I have a "green" thumb.
Oh dear, alas ... the Bonsai plant that the producers gave my husband, John, on the opening night of his show, is sitting on the bench in my hallway, under the bright fluorescent in the ceiling. It is not doing well. It probably had a bad trip when John brought it home from the theater last week in a plastic grocery bag.
The soil was dry. Some of the tiny dark green leaves had already turned brown.
I've been greeting it in the morning. I feel the soil and RESIST THE TEMPTATION TO WATER IT. (Over watering is a plant Mother's greatest weakness.)
I use my fingers to brush the dead leaves away from the slender trunk, and flick -- oh, ever so lightly -- at any leaf that looks suspiciously tired.
Midday, when I go upstairs for more coffee, because I need a break, I spray it lightly, very minimally, but where spray is needed. A plant needs tender love and care.
I'll be tender loving, caring for it for a year or so. And even when it gets bedraggled, and its days are numbered, I won't throw it out. It's part of my life -- like the fish in our fish tanks. When a fish died, I missed it, mourned it for days. (I still miss George, our pike, and Goldy our year-old goldfish. )
What should I do?