One of our jade plants, a Crassula ovata, broke into flower in December. It produced a tiny, small delight—and the more so as the sky outside that day chose to frown down on us darkly in disapproval of this unseasonal exuberance. We got the first of these plants ages and ages ago, but they proliferate beneath Brigitte's green thumbs. We now own a small forest of them, the original having turned into a tree of sorts. I need a pushcart to transport it about the yard in summer and in or out of doors as the seasons change.