Most all of my friends know I absolutely love orchids. I have eight of them. They are displayed in a window in our breakfast nook. I take great pains caring for them. I mist them by bringing them, one at a time to the sink. I got tired of washing the window behind them. The beauty of an orchid is they bloom for 3 or 4 months and then lie dormant for almost a year before it blooms again. They love to be outside. They thrive on humidity. If you find a spot with just the right amounts of filtered sunlight and humidity, they will flourish. I decided it was time to take my little pride and joys outside. However, I couldn't part will all of them being outside at the same time. I decided to take three of them this morning. I had a meeting early, and went out to check on them before I left. They seemed to be doing fine. If you know anything about orchids, you know that they don't actually grow in dirt, but in a bark kind of mixture. I came home this afternoon from my meeting to find my husband cutting the grass. He came in a little while ago and said, "I think I have bad news." Then he paused a minute and said, "actually it's not really bad news, I think they were all about dead anyway." "I said what are you talking about?" He pointed to the tree where all my orchids were nestled. I looked out the window and shouted, "where are they?" He said, "I didn't see them at first, then I realized they were about dead any way." I shook my head, "way to go Stevie Wonder, those were my prize orchids."