Each morning, my abundant houseplants glower at me as they begin another day with many of their basic needs unmet. When I return from work, they weep for attention. And when I shuffle to the kitchen for a midnight glass of water, I hear their jealous whispers above the rush of the faucet. It is a fact — not a fit of paranoia — that my plants regret the day I chose them from the jungled masses in the grocery store, the gardening center, the house of a friend who was moving. Even if I couldn’t sense their barely contained emotions, I could figure it out because every time I water them they sprout fresh leaves to take advantage of the temporary moisture, and their existing foliage takes on a jubilant shine. “Hurrah!” they seem to shout, “The girl finally paid attention to us!” I won’t even talk about the chaos that ensued the time they heard I’d bought a little box of fertilizer. Imagine, if you will, a conga line consisting of a rubber tree, two schefflara, a ficus, and three African violets. I’m still finding torn leaves and spilled soil from that little party.
Don’t get me wrong — plants rarely die on me. I have a near-action-hero knack for rescuing them at the last second with a dripping jug of water, a repotting spree, and a little music. The fact that my thumb isn’t black is unfortunate, however, because the successes that come from sporadic focus on my indoor greenery encourage me to buy new plants or start occasional ones from seed, even when time and energy are an issue, as they are now with my self-imposed book deadline.
All this brings me to my shameful confession: I threw out a dead plant a few days ago, and I may need to seek therapy for my belated attachment issues. You see, it seems I care most about a plant when it’s dying — or, worse, after the fact. When watering a hither-to-ignored drooping plant doesn’t cause perkage, and it continues to wither into dust, I feel a remorse so great I have trouble eating, but when a plant dies my heart aches. I know I could never manage a murder, because I can’t even kill a spider plant without a near breakdown.
Despite the painfulness of the subject, I’m focusing on the tragedy in order to dissuade myself from creating or purchasing any new plants to replace the old — after all, nothing perks a place up like a little foliage, even if said foliage doesn’t have the energy to flower. Maybe I should just get another cat instead; I’ve managed to keep three of the furballs alive so far, which is more than I can say for my dearly departed pots of ivy.
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I am the stay-at-home mother to a toddler nicknamed Sunshine. During nap times I write books, blog, and play around with the photos I've taken. I live in the southwestern U.S. with my husband, daughter, and two cats. My books are represented by Erzsi Deàk of Hen & Ink Literary Studio.
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I wonder if Hallmark makes a card for Death of Foliage. Either way, I’m sorry to hear about your loss. Perhaps the plant went to a better place?
i hope susan’s right and your ivy is in a better place.
either way, i understand completely. there are just a few i can’t keep alive, no matter what i try! perhaps i have a black thumb?
Although I don’t seem to have a “black thumb”…I definitely know I don’t have a “green” one!
The death of anything (even plants) can be traumatizing. Except for, well…mosquitoes. And the like.
Mosquitoes must go
As part of your mourning ritual, spend some time with each of the remaining guys and sing a little to them while massaging their leaves. I always thought Carole King’s Natural Woman worked well for this kind of scene. Trust me, there’s well established research to back this behavior. I’m sure of it.
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I can keep absolutely nothing alive at my house! My mother-in-law has given me several potted things that end up dying on my front porch, never thought of once.
We planted spring flowers, but basically it was sink or swim for those guys… my poor children think the weeds are plants, too, they’re so sweet.
The only exception — I can keep an ivy alive at work. Every day, at the end of the day, I give it the last of my ice/water/tea, whatever I was drinking. I call it a symbiotic relationship.
Yes, Susan, I can guarantee that wherever they are receiving better care than they did here!
Emily, I’ve managed to kill all manner of plants, including almost every cactus I’ve ever owned, but my track record with ivy is almost a 100% loss. I’m keeping one alive at work, but that’s only because no one will let me touch it! Others take care of it for me. That seems to work.
Jess, I so agree! I would not be a bit upset if mosquitoes were completely eradicated.
LOL, sarah! Must try that. Except, well, if I sing to them it’ll only speed up their deaths, so I must queue up the song on my computer or stereo. That ought to do it.
How funny, Sarah! The only ivy I’ve been able to keep alive lives at work, too. Only, I’m not allowed to touch it, which is probably why it’s still alive. And, yes, many of my plants get the remains of my water. It works very nicely.
LOL! I so related to this post! You and I seem to share a common problem. I, however, have invented an intensive care unit… I got hold of a couple of aquariums and all ailing house plants go in them – there’s just one problem, they go in, flourish so well, that I haven’t the heart to take them out. So now I have no house plants but a lot of plants sitting outside in their “greenhouses”!
The only plants I don’t kill off are spider plants. For some reason my erratic watering habits seem to suit them, and over the years my spider plants have produced about a million baby spider plants. Strangely, my sis in law who can grow anything and most beautifully, can’t keep a spider plant alive to save her life!!
I’m having a tough time keeping our ficus plants alive. Who even knew they were so picky? We got them for our veiled chameleons. I keep having to replace them (the plants, not the chameleons)
Just dropped by to say thanks for dropping by my blog and then I started reading… what fun posts you have!
The only houseplant I have any more is a cactus. Cactus are great houseplants. Water them every couple of months and they’re happy! I’m better with outdoor plants but even there I pick the ones that say “drought resistant” on the label!!
How is the title search going? the first thing I thought when I read that post was “Princeless Winnie”. I don’t even know if there are romantic elements in your story or not, but… Titles are strange beasts. Good luck!
I have a beautiful, flourishing garden outside as you walk in my house. Flowers and so on. In spring, summer, and fall (now it’s too cold). But INSIDE house plants see me coming and cower. What I finally did is find a plant I can’t kill.
Good Luck bamboo. They grow in water. No soil. Just pretty rocks in a vase or a glass jar. Even BETTER, I have one huge one in a vase, where I ALSO have a beta fish swimming around in the water. A pet AND a plant at once.
Mine are getting well over a foot tall. Indestructible even for me.
E
Absolute Vanilla, that is a marvelous idea! I do something like it so that I can start my garden early, but I haven’t tried it with my plants. (For my garden, I tent a clear plastic sheet over it and add a few jugs of water so that they a) maintain the temperature and b) evaporate, causing moisture. It works really well.
Christina, my spider plants do okay, but they don’t produce millions of offspring. I don’t think they get enough light, though, and I’m just not willing to move them. As long as they’re not dying, they stay in place.
Barrie, they are so picky, aren’t they? A little change in location, in temperature, in lighting, and they drop leaves like crazy.
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Erica, considering where you live I can see how you could have some lovely gardens almost year-round. It must be so nice to come home to landscaping like that. I haven’t tried the bamboo, though I’ve seen the fish/plant combo. Must keep it in mind.
You should be proud of yourself for sending Ivy to a better place!
I’ve had a ficus 10 years. it began as one of those intricate 3 braided stems things. Gorgeous. Three times it has been virtually naked and I’ve moved it outside to get rid of it. Three times it has come back to life! Although a little less of it comes back every time. Now it is far more ‘modern art’ than greenery but I just can’t bring myself to dispose of something so determined to live…even if only about 1/4 of it is actually alive.
Outdoors my plants are pretty happy, but inside my green thumb has taken on a dreary shade of brown. So I gave up and I only allow myself a few plants on the kitchen windowsill. I do have some silk plants, I know Martha wouldn’t approve, but they are much less work and they’re really quite lovely (accept for the ones my daughter’s cat has devoured, I think he has a vitamin deficiency!).
This should not be funny, but I can’t stop laughing. I can’t even say I have a black thumb. When it comes to plants, I’m pretty sure my thumb was chopped off and I was left with a bleeding stump. I was banned from taking care of office plants while the other secretary was on vacation because the Snake Plant had one leaf fall to the floor and begin drooling a brown puddle all over the office floor. Then? I cried the day I killed my cactus at home. I’m trying another one, but it is half-way to the next life already. LOL ! I really didn’t think even I could kill a cactus.
Lainey, that’s hilarious! The ficus that just won’t die.
Bookbabie, that’s so funny–I seem to have the opposite problem. Things outside just won’t grow for me. Of course, I do live in a desert, and am just not up to the extra care many of the plants take.
Don’t worry about it Mizzz_K. Actually, a part of me is amused by the fact that I can take a little thing like that so hard. As for catci, I always kill mine, too.
Caryn, you’re kidding. No one can kill ivy!
unfortunately, i threw out a totally healthy plant just because it was “shedding” too many leaves. i felt torn about it but nobody wanted to take it out of my hands. now it’s in the dumpster. i am shamefully evil.
My husband told me I had to keep a plant alive for a full year before he would consider having children.
I don’t think I ever did make the year mark with the plants, but our children are 7 and five. I usually don’t forget to water them.
I had to laugh at this post, Caryn, since I am exactly the same way with my plants. Considering I’m really good with the furballs, too, maybe I, too, should ditch the plants and get another cat. At least they’re soft and fluffy.
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Oh, I totally keep dead plants. Can’t throw them away! I have one on my desk at work and one at home. I keep thinking maybe they’ll come back to life
If it can’t annoy the crap out of me because it needs something, it will die in my care. Plants, fish, hamsters… I have horror stories about all of them. My mother keeps threatening to bring me a plant and I keep telling her that she has to pay for its funeral. When I got pregnant with my first Thing, my mother asked if I thought I could keep him alive. So far so good.
oh i think a cat is way more expensive than a plant.
how about just working on taking better care of the greens you have and then you’ll feel better
a lot of times we want to replace something lost with something new but its also a good time to just reflect on what was lost, the lesson we can learn from it before committing ourselves to a new obligation.