It's so damn cold here my cucumber plants have turned white for lack of blood flow. I'm tempted to throw blankets on my three tomato plants, much as I had to cover every single one of my dolls and stuffed toys before I could sleep, when I was wee. Drove my mother crazy. But even a spent sock did the trick, just anything to ward off the chill.
No end to caregiving, to mothering. It began early and shall continue until the end, I believe.
It's amazing how instinct-driven we are.
If an African violet fell from the window-sill and broke leaves (when I was 17), I'd mourn.
Important to toughen; I no longer weep for ripped leaves but just place a wounded child at my knees and I'll fold every last cell of my being around him.