I'm a wanna-be plant lady. That means that in my life I've tried to grow a lot of things, killed a lot of the things I was trying to grow, and have some things I've managed to keep alive for a while now. I'm by no means an expert, but I have learned some things. Mostly about life, some about plants.
I don't know if this is normal human behavior, but I relate to my houseplants. When I met my red-veined fittonia in Walmart, I felt a thrill and whispered (you guys knew I was weird, right? Because I'm weird . . . ) "Oh, you are beautiful! I'm going to take you home." I found one of my orchids in the clearance section at Smiths. As I examined her wilting leaves and her blossoms that were about to fall I promised that I would take care of her. Granted, I was pregnant at the time, so take that as you will. The point is, I love my plants and see them as the living things they are.
Remember how I told you how I've killed some plants? I've definitely made mistakes. I've forgotten to water, left my basil outside for an aphid snack, and made the mistake of assuming that my first orchid had died because the stems shriveled. As a general rule, it's easier for me to grow houseplants. They're inside where I see them regularly, and they're protected from the elements. However, I tried growing vegetables inside and they didn't get quite enough sun. I got three green beans and a small pepper as a result. Every plant is different. Every circumstance is different. I had to move my pothos from the bathroom because it was too moist. Then I had to move my fittonia into the bathroom because she needed more moisture. I've discovered that even the best gardeners experience weeds, bugs, and diseased plants. What sets them apart from the poor gardeners is that when complications arise, they know how to handle them--or they find out how. Even if their plants die, they find out why, try to fix it, and try again.
Plants need sun and water, right? So, the more the better, yeah? Eh, no. Most people actually overwater their houseplants. "Too much of a good thing" can really apply when dealing with plants. My poor aloe vera has been through the wringer. When I got it, it was a little sunburned. It didn't get enough sun in the bathroom I put it in. (Pinterest got me convinced I needed a plant in my bathroom. I think I tried putting all my plants in the bathroom at one point or another.) I over-corrected and put it on the windowsill to get more sun and it froze on a particularly cold night. I rotted the roots off by watering too much. My kids pinch it because its leaves are so squishy--wait, that's not a good thing. I may have lost my train of argument. You get the idea. The important thing is that you have to pay attention and make little changes until you get it right. Richoteing from one extreme to the other isn't usually the best way to make your corrections. (Also, you should pick hardy plants if you're the "school of hard knocks" kind of gardener.)
We talk a lot about people and their green thumbs. Maybe some people are born with an affinity for plants, but I would venture a guess that keeping things alive is a skill that like so many others, requires practice. You have to know your plants' needs and tendencies and act accordingly. You also have to know yourself and your tendencies. My husband and I have been trying to plan our yard. It's been a long process because 1. I'm more afraid of committing to change than I was to marry my husband, 2. We have more ideas than money, and 3. When we research what we think we want, we've discovered that the plants aren't well suited for our climate, yard, or family. That's okay; we'll keep looking. In the end, what we want is a yard that will look nice but won't require insane amounts of upkeep and water. To plant a tree we thought we wanted because it looked nice but had to worry over because it didn't fit our space and needs would deny us our ultimate goals.
This is my avocado tree. I sprouted it from a seed last summer. Unfortunately, I didn't let it get enough sun and it was awfully leggy. When I discovered my mistake, I put it outside for an afternoon to get it more sun. Instead of having a vacation in the sun, he experienced trauma when my kids put a tricycle tire around him and broke him. I didn't have a lot of hope, but I did my best to nurse him back to health. I put him in a cast and splint, and wouldn't you know it, he recovered.
I don't know if you can see the little knobby bit midway between the soil level and the clip holding the stem to the brace, but that's the place that used to be weak and damaged. Just like a broken bone, the tree healed itself, leaving that spot stronger than it had been before.
After removing the supports, the stem was fine on its own. It even withstood a helicopter crash.
That's when I stepped in with my well-meaning but harmful meddling. *Cringe.*
Because he was so leggy, this little guy had one really big leaf and some teeny tiny leaves. I decided to pinch things back in order to promote growth. This is an actual strategy that has worked when I've done it properly. But this was my first time, and I didn't know what I was doing. I pinched too much and killed the stem.
"But," you say, "Why tell us all this about your avocado tree if its life was so brutish and short?"
Because that was just one stem.
I often mistake lack of blooms for death. I mentioned my first orchid earlier, but when the shoots started to shrivel, I assumed I had killed it. Plants, like people, have periods of latency in which they are alive, but not visibly growing because they are resting, developing stronger roots, and preparing for the next time they blossom. I dumped a whole orchid because I deemed it worthless based upon its appearance. It still saddens me to think on it.
Meanwhile, you're wondering about my avocado tree. As I watched, in the aftermath of my pruning, the stem blackened and shriveled. I cursed myself. What was I thinking? This was the comeback kid. Everyone loves the story of an underdog, and I had killed it. I was so remorseful that I couldn't bring myself to toss him. I kept him on my shelf as a reminder of what a horrible person I was and watered him periodically because I was in denial.
Then, one day, a tiny leaf appeared at the base of the stem. I thought this stem might pull through. It didn't, but the tree had sent up another shoot. Forking from just below the surface, a new stem had split from the original. Healthy and green, my avocado is healthier than before. Despite all the terrible things that have happened, he continues to reach for the light and keep growing.
The internet tells me I'm basically a houseplant, but with more complicated emotions. Whether you're a houseplant or a gardener, take care of yourself: Look to the light and never give up.
