I had bought the bottles from a second hand shop in the local market. The wily shopkeeper, seeing an inexperienced young person excited at finding what she was looking for, charged me more than what the bottles were worth. Anyway who wanted old bottles? A person like me only. They were lovely bottles in various shapes, and sizes. I needed them for my money plants. I had one in the kitchen, and the others found their way to the bathrooms. I would change the water periodically.
When the roots became unsightly, or the bottles started having build up of water marks, I would clean the bottles first, then put in a new one, cut from the money plants in the verandah. There is a time and place for everything. Gradually I gave up keeping the bottled plants. It had become added work for me.
I tried my hand at growing a green wonderland in a bottle, after reading about it. I didn’t had the requisite tools, or whatever, it wasn’t a success. The bottle was murky with the soil I had put in. I didn’t even had the proper plants. The ones I had pushed in withered in no time. Disgusted with the effort, I threw the bottle, and all in the dustbin.
Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.