I love being in the nature. The best times of my life are spent inside forests looking for animals or on the mountains marveling at its grandeur or by the sea listening to the waves crashing on the shore. But unfortunately, my profession is such that I live in a concrete jungle where the only touch of green I see are some grass and shrubs poking out between cracks in concrete.
I always craved the green when I was in the city and lived from one vacation to the other dreaming about my next destination when I would be in the nature again. So finally I decided if I can't get my beloved nature inside the city, I will try to get some in my home. So I started indoor gardening. Before I knew it, I fell in love with my plants.
It isn't even a drop in the ocean of green that we need to create. But it still is something. Now however hazy my surrounding is due to air pollution, my house air is clean and I can breathe at my heart's content again. However materialistic and meaningless my city looks, I have more green at my home than any other color. Everytime my plants grow a new leaf, I feel proud. I feel they must love me just as much as I love them to accept my home as their own.
And yes, I have donated lots of my useless materialistic stuff that I had acquired over the years, gathering dust at some corner of my house, to make room for my new friends. And I couldn't be happier.