It’s New York City. I don’t have a sprawling farm along the Missouri countryside like Maggie did. Or even a small farm in Texas like my parents do. I have a 3rd floor apartment in NYC with no outdoor space. In our new apartment, I can’t even put in window boxes. Thankfully I have some windows that get good light so my plants are actually doing fairly well. But it’s been a challenge when I’ve gotten new plants or when I’ve needed to re-pot anything because I have nowhere outdoors to do that kind of thing.
So, creativity ensues. I pull out a large, flat sheet and all my potting supplies and turn my living room into a gardening work space. It’s messy work, no doubt. There’s always bits of potting soil that scatters. And the kids like to help so there are 30 dirty little fingernails to clean afterwards, but it’s lots of fun to see the new things we’ve worked on grow bigger.
I remember my grandmother teaching me how she cared for her plants. I would help her water them and re-pot them. At one time she had two large shelving units filled with violets. And she always had a planter outside her front steps filled with impatiens. She would always take her Christmas cactus to the back room where it was cool and dark in the fall and it would always be full of bright fuschia blooms in the winter. And she had a fern that belonged to Maggie. It was over 100 years old. She had it in the back bedroom of her house when was in the hospital before she died. None of us knew that it was back there to water it and so it died. We were all so sad to discover that it had been neglected when we cleaning out her house after she died. We would have all loved to have a cutting from it. I can’t say that I always take as good of care of my plants as my Nanny did. Some days I do well just to keep the kids alive. But, I’m thankful for those times with her and that she taught me what she knew. She gave me a love for violets that will last my whole life through. No matter where I’ve been in life, I’ve always had a violet.
I like the memories that I have associated with my plants. Who gave me the plant. Where I got it from. It’s good to remember those things when I look at them throughout the day. All my plants have a story. My five philodendron plants came from one sprout that I got from my grandmother. Her angel wing begonia that she gave me the year before she died went through a difficult beginning with me, but now has turned into several more plants. My larger begonia was given to me by an old friend in Colorado and my umbrella plant by other dear Colorado friends upon my grandmother’s death.
Today we just made a new plant memory. Today we saved a plant that was going to be thrown out from the building down the street. We divided it up between several friends. When we see it we’ll think of our friends, and the times we’ve spent with them. We also potted some new little succulents that we got at the local street fair on Memorial Day. Each child has one that they picked out. We can look at them and remember that day and what we did and ate and the fun things that we did. Before we went to bed tonight, the 2-year-old went to say goodnight to all the “baby plants.” Even though it’s just beginning, she knows the stories of these little plants we potted today. My plants hold the stories of the good times and the difficult ones. And I like that they are part of life. They are a tie that helps me remember the threads of my past. It’s good to think on where you’ve been. Sometimes it gives you perspective and helps make where you are seem better.
Maybe you don’t have such strong memories associated with your plants. Just because I do, you don’t have to. But, I enjoy mine and what they help me remember. They are the silent storytellers in my house. But, I’m going to tell my children these stories. They need to know them. It’s part of my life and so it’s also part of theirs. Find a plant you like and bring it home. With time, you may end up with something good to remember by it.