For the past eight weeks the first floor of our old house has been torn apart as contractors rebuilt the floors.  My houseplants spend the late spring, summer and early fall outside, and normally I would have brought them back in sometimes in September.  However, most of them spend the winters in the large, south-facing bay window in my dining room.  Not only was the dining room floor not there, but the window seat was gone for the duration of the construction project.

Fortunately we have had a fairly warm fall, and the plants have survived, grouped together on the back porch right by the house.  The least hardy of the lot were brought indoors and placed in sunny windows on the second floor, but several, including large jade and lemon trees, were too big to make the trip up the stairs.

Now, the last of the contractors is finally finished, which is fortunate, because tonight the temperature is supposed to dip down into the twenties.  The wind is already cold, and the plants are shivering as they await the trip into the house.  I bring each one in, check for bugs and dead stalks or canes, then wipe down the pots, rinse the saucers and put them back in the dining room where they belong.  I expect that all of them will suffer from the combined shocks of light deprivation and dramatic temperature change, so they will look awful for at least two weeks.  With tender loving care, though, I think they'll pull through.  I am grateful that Mother Nature decided to hold off on the Arctic blasts until I could rescue my green "children" from the elements.