Ten years ago, I spent a lot of time thinking and arguing about the concept of file sharing, particularly as it applied to MP3 music files. I traditionally worked from the position that this was theft, unless the creator of the music openly gave his or her consent (as the value of the creative property would be reduced). But those who disagreed would occasionally point to the fact that nothing was tangibly “stolen” within this process — a given song was merely duplicated and shared among interested parties (without damaging the original or removing it from anyone else’s collection). In a roundabout way, your query reminds me of that semantic problem: you took something you did not own, yet nothing was lost. Should you have asked the shopping center if you could do this? Well, of course. That’s a courtesy issue (and though they might have allowed it, they would have been justified in saying no, even without an explanation). But the broader ethics of the situation are thornier: how do we assess an unethical act that has a positive impact? Does that positive result reverse the way we should perceive its inception?

The plant you wanted to clone was not for sale and did not disappear from its place of origin. To accuse you of “stealing” seems a little overamplified; the nature of this act actually seems closer to mild vandalism (although if your wife is truly as skilled a gardener as you imply, there would have been no significant trauma to the plant). If this variety were rare and supervaluable, it could be argued that the cloning reduced its value, although I doubt this was the case if you found them scattered all over a mall. These plants come from the earth, so there is no infringement on creative powers. (I suppose it’s possible your plant is some kind of unique man-made hybrid, but — here again — a shopping center is not exactly Biosphere 2.) Plants have a positive impact on the environment and social aesthetics, and your ultimate goal was to create more of them.