The story below is an excerpt from our January/February 2018 issue. For the rest of this story and more like it subscribe today, log in to read our digital edition or download our FREE iOS app. Thank you!
My fake plants died because I did not pretend to water them.
—Mitch Hedberg
The word “houseplant” meant something green and plastic that required no care until the day I met my new college roommate. I staggered into the room bearing heavy boxes of posters and school supplies. She came in bearing heavy boxes of potted plants. In fact, she had to set down a philodendron, a spider plant and an African violet before we could shake hands. When we parted ways, two years later, she gave me one of each. She assured me that they were fail-proof. I took them home, treated them like plastic plants, and they died.
Failure is a great motivator. That fall, I bought new spider plants and philodendrons and hung them in my north facing dorm windows. I watered them every day. They turned forty different shades of yellow and died. I bought more, put them in the same dirt as the old ones, and watered them weekly. They lived but they were so puny that I hid them when friends came over.
My senior year I learned to push my finger into the dirt down to my first knuckle. If it was dry down there, it was time to water. I learned to feed my plants monthly and to prune them to encourage fuller growth. My dorm room disappeared in a sea of green leaves and vines. In an effort to stem the tide, I started my own ring-and-run plant delivery service. It involved skulking around in the dark and leaving plants on the doormats of strangers.
Then, I graduated, moved to the mountains and got married. My husband and I renovated an old farmhouse, and I brought in my plants. They all picked up their roots and bolted. My house, built by pioneers, was perfect for cold winters. The north facing windows didn’t admit enough light and the south facing windows were like Mini Bake Ovens. To top it all off, a house heated with a woodstove is a virtual desert for humidity-loving houseplants.
I gave up on indoor plants until the winter a student gave me a Christmas cactus. It was very forgiving. I put it in my north-facing bedroom window and it rewarded me with a cascade of pink blooms the following year. Then, a friend gave me a snake plant. It didn’t care that the sun streaming through my south windows could fry an egg. Finally, my youngest son went to college and majored in agriculture. One of his required classes was horticulture and he gave me a terrarium which was happy no matter where I put it.
So, encouraged by these successes, I succumbed to the siren call of three cute, white enamel teacups at a yard sale. I would use them as planters. Now, I needed to find something that could survive their shallow depths. I dug up three of the hen and chick plants that were tucked between rocks in my herb garden and perched them in the soil-filled teacups. They clucked with satisfaction and nestled right in.
It turns out that those plants were the broody kind. Broody hens focus all their energy on hatching chicks. The hen and chick plants are multiplying quickly, so if someone rings your doorbell at midnight, be sure to check your porch when you step outside. You just might find an adorable tea cup full of perky succulents looking for a new home.
Quick List of Forgiving Plants:
ZZ Plant (Zamioculcas zamiifolia)
Christmas Cactus (Zygocactus)
Aloe Vera (Aloe perfoliata)
Hen and Chick (Sempervivum)
Snake Plant (Sansevieria)
Jade Plant (Crassula Ovata)
Madagascar Dragon Tree (Dracaena marginata)
Ponytail Palm (Beaucarnea recurvata)
