Missy Molly plopped herself down in my path for her first morning purrrr! and petting. Pretty Molly.
"Mew! Where do think you're going? I want breakfast."
"I want to do this first," I said, opening the back door to the chilly morning. I leaned out the door, talked into the air, and watched for poofs of cold breath to float away. Nothing.
"Good," I said, opening the door wider. Molly scurried to the south and I limped to the north with a bucket full of dumb cane. Dieffenbachia to some.
A few weeks ago, I finally took the overgrown dumb cane out of its pot. Wowza, I tell you. The plant's thick tangled roots completely filled the medium-sized pot. Sorry guy. It is the sole descendant of the original plant that the Husband received as a gift in the mid-1970s.
From this successor of a dieffenbachia, I pulled apart about a dozen more descendants. I also snapped pieces from two or three tall stalks to try growing more that way. With luck and care, we may have a whole lot of healthy dumb canes in the near future.
As for Molly? She let me pot one pot with cuttings before shepherding me into the house to give her breakfast.