ASHLEIGH RYAN ❏ Julie has twenty-six plants in her three hundred square-foot apartment. Half she maintained when her ex still lived there; the other half she acquired in the eighteen months since. There are nine different succulents, mostly teacup sized, placed in cream-coloured planters shaped like llamas and other animals. There’s a trio of African violets placed on a tiered display close to the window like toddler girls posing for a portrait. There’s a fern hanging in the corner beside the couch and a large palm on the opposite side in a wooden pot on the floor. There’s a skinny dracaena beside the television that she frequently turns away from the light to coax into a more pleasing shape, only to have it grow taller and more haphazard. Butted against it are three baseball-sized cacti in a series of white pots placed in a wooden tray like a set of dips.