Cacti were some of the first plants my Dad bought me when I was little and learning how to be a gardener; I raised a barrel cactus and another tall cactus from itty bitty babies into mature adults. In New Jersey. Those cacti were painfully beautiful. After I left for college, I got a call from my Dad; he said that the barrel cactus had burst open and died; I think it missed me. The tall cactus, on the other hand, continued to grow taller. At its peak that cactus was over 5 feet tall; it had spikes so long and strong that we could have hung our mini poodle off one. But we didn’t, no matter how many times she peed on my parents’ bed. I repotted the tall cactus regularly for years. It was an adventure in pain management. So that’s my long way of explaining why I consider myself an expert cacti (re)potter.
A n d ??
I’m the proud owner of some new cacti! Four inexpensive (not itty bitty) cacti jumped into my cart at Home Depot. They must have heard I put a plant stand in front of a western window in my home. News like that travels fast among plants in a big box store: For them it’s go home within 3 days of arriving or die. Since the cacti were armed and I wasn’t, I brought them home without a fight. After getting jabbed only a half-dozen or so times in the process I maneuvered the little thugs onto my potting bench. To repot them.