My son sent an e-mail the other day informing me of his purchase of a plant for his new apartment. He included a picture. He knew I would be pleased with his new purchase because we always have plants in our houses. It was not always so with me. I didn't really pay much attention to plants at our childhood home within. I was always more interested in the flora outside the home, gazing at the "four-o-clocks" in the front yard, looking into the abyss of a hole in the giant maple tree out front. When I got married, one of the first presents was some kind of stalky green thing from the people my husband worked with--to keep me company when he had to work late on a special project. Now 30 something years later, it is that same kind of stalky green thing my son has purchased for his place. What goes around comes around I guess.
I like plants. Looking out the front window of our living room, the green dogwood is framed by the plants on the windowsill. The sun filters through the arrow-head shaped leaves and glances off the upright growth of the plant next to it. I'm not going to name all the kinds of plants I have in the house. I don't think I know all the names of them anymore. I mean their generic names, I never quite mastered the scientific ones of anything. And I don't name them either--Ethel, George. I do talk to them though and gently rub their leaves from time to time. The ones I currently have growing here are a amicable bunch. They don't demand too much.
I don't have a good relationship with certain plants, I've noticed. Boston ferns and I do not understand each other. Their idea of ideal growing environments and mine simply do not mesh. And Fushias are much too picky for me. Water me now, NO, too much, well now I"m bone dry. Nope, I just don't want to hear their whining. Of course, I received one for a present recently so I've placed her in a window and hope for the best. But she isn't with the rest of the plants in the living room. No one likes a whiner. I received an orchid recently, also as a present. Orchids and I do not have a good history either, but I was determined to figure out how to keep this one alive and so far I have--a breakthrough to be sure. Poinsettias and I get along famously. Every year I buy at least four of them, and they happily shed, bring little black bugs and endless watering accidents into the home. But by May, when they are still thinking they own the place, I plant them outside in one of the flower beds. They grow just fine until the cold winds of November. No, I do not dig them up and take them in. I let them die a natural death then buy four new ones to perpetuate the cycle in December. I like to think I'm doing my part in the floral economy with this cycle.
I have a palm tree, too. It was part of a planter that my father-in-law received when he moved into a nursing home. After he died, I took the planter home and re-potted all the individual plants. They all died of something or other except the palm. He has been dead for seven years now and the palm is waist high from the floor. I look at it and think of him, his laughter, his calm demeanor and I feel like I have a piece of him with me.
I add on to my collection from time to time. I have a pink-spotted plant on the porch which is a recent addition. It seems like it can't decide whether it is a close growing bush-kind-of-thing or a taller-more-majestic-kind-of-thing. I'm letting it work itself out on it's own. There are two tree-like stalky things growing on the plant stand above the pinky. They've been in residence for a while--they were the new kids on the block for some time. They grudgingly grow something like an inch every 5 years, so I really can't be certain whether they are okay or not. I think they like to confuse me, so I keep them on because of the challenge in their growth--attitude makes the difference.
My sister seems to think I am a plant guru. But really, I just water and let them go. I do feed every now and then. I pet them occasionally and promise I won't let the cat chew on them (she's getting too old for that challenge any more anyway). The african violets on the windowsill bloom for me in grateful appreciation for finding the right light in a house which has a lot of shade. So the plants and I get along. We've found peace in suburbia together. Watching the sun shift through their leaves day and day out with nary a whine in between.
