In the Midst of Plant Lives
I live my own life in the midst of plant lives. Many, many plant lives. Since I’m the publisher here, this situation would seem to be about right. But I choose to live my life with plants for reasons far beyond the vocational. First and foremost among those reasons is the fact that I love them and they love me right back.
By John G. Stamos
The plants are everywhere. In my garden. Outside, all around my house. All around my house on the inside, too. The ones that grow outside are tough enough to withstand the often brutally cold and snowy winters that my little plot of Midwestern ground experiences year after year. All but a small bunch of the plants that grow inside my house move outdoors to my front and back gardens to enjoy the sun and balmy weather of spring, summer, and early fall, and then come back inside to bunk with me when the cold weather returns. The remainder of my plants – the small bunch that stays put indoors all year long – have been with me for years, living under my roof with me and breathing the same air l breathe, month after month without interruption, and year after year. The actuality is that my life is spent in the midst of plant lives. It’s a fundamental element of my existence.
It’s unavoidable that the act of publishing and writing as I do for a publication called The Renaissance Garden Guy is going to generate some assumptions among readers and subscribers regarding the relationship I have with my plants. Since, to a great degree, The RGG is a gardening-themed publication, it would seem to follow that I keep a bunch of plants around because they’re an integral part of what I do to make a living. Sort of a “if you’re gonna write about ’em and make money off of ’em, then you better keep a lot of ’em around” dynamic. Right? Well, to a certain extent, I guess this is true. But only to a certain extent. The primary reality is rooted, so to speak, in a dynamic that is in fact just the opposite: I publish and write for a gardening-themed publication because I keep a bunch of plants around. And I keep a bunch of plants around because I love them. Each and every single one of them. And I’m pretty sure they love me right back.
This human-plant mutual lovefest has manifested itself time and time again, and in many different ways, throughout my lifetime. If I take a step back (and a deep breath) and actually think about all of the instances when my love for a particular plant was reciprocated, and how each of these relationships made life better for both human and plant, I’m overwhelmed. There are just too many occasions and too many cases to try to recount, and the palpable sense of reciprocity inherent in each of these interactions was, and is, really acute. (Intense love affairs with plants? This is sounding crazier and crazier, isn’t it?)
As it pertains to the relationships between my plants and me, I guess at this point I should try to explain what I mean by the term “love,” since I’ve been slinging it around so much today and it’s no doubt starting to freak some people out. The love I’m talking about isn’t like love between people, complete with all of the associated physical and emotional trappings. There are obviously no Hallmark moments happening between my orchids and me, and if I’ve got to explain that my peonies and I aren’t jumping each other’s bones, well… So, it’s not like interpersonal, human love. And it’s not love masquerading as duty. Inherent, of course, in the caregiving regimen that a particular human being implements for the benefit of another living organism, whether plant, pet, or fellow human (e.g., spouse/spouse, mother/child, health care worker/patient, babysitter/spoiled brat, etc.), is a sense of both love and duty. Depending on the relationship between the person doing the caring and the organism receiving the care, the ratio of love and duty manifests itself on a sliding scale. Sometimes there’s a lot of one and barely any of the other. Sometimes there’s a great deal of both. Sometimes, as in the case of horrific neglect, there’s very little of either. Obviously, many times, love is the catalyst for duty. Sometimes, in the course of the execution of duty, love may ultimately result. But the two values are fundamentally different – one’s a numerator and the other’s a denominator. Love and duty may go hand in hand, but they’re two completely different things.
So, back to the love affair between my plants and me…
There’s definitely love there, girls and boys. And it’s a love born of familiarity and time, and of a connection that exists at the physiological level (at the neural level, really). It’s a love that inspires duty, and it’s a love that’s inspired by duty. It’s a love that has led me here, to where I am now. To a parcel of land in the middle of an old growth oak forest. To a living room and a dining room crammed with tropical plants for the entirety of every winter (and for most of every fall and a big chunk of every early spring). To a deck, patio, and two gardens overgrown with nodding blooms, twisting green tendrils, glossy foliage, thick stems, and rough-barked trunks. To a world overflowing with more nectar and pollen than a million birds, bees, and butterflies feasting for a million years could hope to lay a dent into. Oh yeah, folks, it’s full-on plant love and it’s landed me right here, in the midst of plant lives. I got it bad, baby. And my plants do, too.
My sister and I had an interesting conversation recently about African violets. These little plants in the plant family Gesneriaceae are incredibly popular among highly experienced enthusiasts (worldwide, there are any number of African violet societies, clubs, groups, etc.) and novice plant fanciers alike. And they’re the very definition of “heirloom plant.” They can live 50 years and more. The convo my sister and I had concerned two particular African violet plants that lived during the time of my early adolescence and throughout most of my teenage years (one of them continued to live substantially longer). These were tiny little things consisting of only a few little leaves when they were purchased at a now-defunct big box store somewhere around 1974 or 1975. One became my mother’s, and the other was mine. My mom, at the time, had a load of houseplants (as well as a pretty awesome outdoor garden that she tended with my dad), and she cared for each of them, including her new African violet, assiduously. And I cared for my own new African violet. Extra-assiduously.
The day after I brought my little plant home, I checked out a library book about African violets and read it from cover to cover. Several times. And I learned all of the technical aspects of African violet care and implemented them in true textbook fashion. For a little 11-year-old kid, I really had it going on, African violet-wise. But the textbook, technical care stuff was only part of the relationship between my little violet and me. Looking back, although it’s impossible to mathematically quantify, I really think the biggest component – certainly the most important component – of my African violet care plan was the “Me Factor.” This included my worrying about my plant, talking to it, and thinking about it while I was away from it, not obsessively (I wasn’t a total freak), but enough to where I think it was somehow picking up my wavelengths…
I played organized American football when I was a kid. In high school, our games were played on Saturdays. And Saturday morning, right from the time I first brought it home, became the day and time I chose to always water my African violet, which by this time, was no longer quite so little. One Saturday morning – Game Day – I was so keyed up about my upcoming game that I forgot to water my violet. I never gave it a thought until much later that evening, while I was engaged in a little underage drinking and amorous fraternization with a female high school football fan at a postgame party. I always wondered, somewhat obtusely, where the parents were while these celebrations of the spirit were going down, and on this particular Saturday evening at this particular party, I remembered my waterless violet and I wondered about it, too. But not at all obtusely. I got seriously panicked when I realized that I hadn’t watered my plant that morning. I forgot about drinking another beer and I forgot about my makeout session. And just in case you’re wondering… No, I didn’t tell Suzie-Q that the reason I quit trying to unhook her bra strap was because houseplant care was all of a sudden distracting me. Even though it was. (Shit. I guess I really was a total freak.) I tried to score a ride home from a bunch of upperclassmen teammates who were hanging out. No dice. So, at some time after midnight, I hoofed it home to my African violet. When I got home, I turned on all the lights, examined it, apologized to it, and watered it. Then, I told it goodnight. Ok. Freak. For sure.
My treasured little African violet, which by the time I left for college at the age of 18, was itself somewhere around seven or eight years old, and it was left in the care of my mother while I lived my life with one of Loyola University’s most rockin’ coed dorms as my digs. I wasn’t too worried about my plant – my mom, after all, was a bodaciously attentive gardenfrau – I knew it was in good hands.
Imagine my shock and disappointment when, on the occasion of my first visit home, I found that my little violet was dead. (My mom knew I was busy as hell pulling Cs and Ds up at LU, so she didn’t want to burden me with the sad news of my violet’s passing via telephone.) What happened? The plant was obviously well cared for. Theoretically, it should have been fine, not dead. Here’s the thing. During the seven or eight years that I spent with this little plant, raising it from a pup, caring for it, missing it when I was away from it, talking to it, bonding with it, I believe it literally grew to love me. (Take it easy, guys.) Sounds crazy, I know. But I can’t think of any other reason for its demise besides the fact that up to that point, it had been ME who was doing all of the loving on it. My mom’s own African violet? The one purchased concurrently with my own unfortunate plant? Fit as a goddamned fiddle. So, all things being equal…
You get my drift.
I think the above story just about covers all of the plant love bases that I can personally think of. In the case of that little African violet plant, the ingredients of time, care, attention, and communication I offered it seemed to combine as the perfect recipe for a happy, healthy life. I can tell you that while I loved that little plant, it loved me back by offering me beautiful flowers and by captivating me, and by remaining on my mind, and by making me ridiculously happy. This was, beyond any reasonable doubt, a bona fide case of plant love.
As I mentioned at the beginning of this one, there’ve been way too many instances of love happening between the plants I’ve grown (and continue to grow) and me for me to try to recount. I’ve got orchids (which so many of my gardener friends find impossible to keep alive) that thrust up thick green leaves and arrowing flower spikes, and bloom with those hypnotic orchid flowers, year after year. One of my dragon trees will be 27 years old this year. There is an expanding array of potted leafy housemates that, after living with me indoors for half of the year, return outdoors to the summer sun healthier than ever. Roses in my garden, succulents in my house, and every green and growing thing in between, all respond to the love I give them with their own brand of love. There’s an undeniable connection that’s present here in my world. A love connection. Between my plants and me. They know I love them, and I know they love me. It’s real, it’s in the air, and it’s happening in the midst of plant lives. Many, many plant lives.
Love and duty might be two different things, but they definitely go hand in hand when it comes to successfully growing a particular plant, and keeping it happy and vibrant. You’ve got to show your love by doing your duty. In the case of African violets and orchids, which I’ve spent a minute discussing here today, that duty involves planting them in the right stuff and feeding them the right stuff. So right here, gang, I’m going to lay a few absolutely invaluable product recs on you. Trust me when I tell you that they work. Using them is one way I show my African violets and orchids my love. Here you go…
Espoma Organic Violet! Espoma Organic Violet! is, as you might suspect, what I feed my all members of my African violet colony. But if I’m ever fresh out of Espoma Organic Violet! African violet food, I feed them Espoma Organic Orchid! orchid food. Both products can be used interchangeably, since they’ve got exactly the same fast-uptake, organic, liquid formulation. They’ve both got an N-P-K of 1-3-1, with nutrients derived from exactly the same sources, and theyv’e got exactly the same populations of colonizing beneficial microbes. Espoma Organic Violet!, like its sister plant food product, Espoma Organic Orchid!, will provide your plants with the perfect combination of nutrients – and in exactly the right amounts – to ensure their continued excellent green, growing health, and ongoing prodigious blooming habits. Click the #advertisement link to learn more, or to order it right here, directly from Amazon.
Espoma Organic African Violet Premium Potting Mix. Espoma Organic African Violet Premium Potting Mix is the potting medium I use for every single one of my African violets. Its composition perfectly matches the natural soil requirements of these little flowering dynamos. This premium product contains processed forest products, sphagnum, peat moss, perlite, humus, limestone (for pH adjustment), and yucca extract. It provides a stress-free medium for African violets that mitigates and/or entirely eliminates any signs of plant shock when re-potting, and allows these beautiful little plants to live the long, flower-filled lives to which they’re genetically predisposed. This is the perfect potting medium for African violets, and I wholeheartedly recommend it. To learn more about this excellent potting medium, or to order it right here, directly from Amazon, please click the #advertisement link.
Espoma Organic Orchid! Espoma Organic Orchid! is, as in the case of every Espoma product I’ve ever used, absolutely remarkable. It’s the perfect food for my orchids, bat flower, (and African violets), and other tropical plants that have big-time blooming capabilities and also like to spend huge chunks of the year, if not the whole year, indoors. This fast-uptake, liquid organic product delivers all the nutrition my plants need. Its N-P-K of 1-3-1 provides the perfect ratio of nutrients with just a smidge more phosphorous (but not too much) that ensures that plants that were born to flower, and flower big, reach their blooming potential. Plus, there are massive populations of colonizing, beneficial microbes in Espoma Organic Orchid! that help boost and maintain overall plant and soil health. Good stuff, right here, kiddos. It’s got the exactly the same formulation as Espoma Organic Violet! African violet food, and I’ve used the two products interchangeably with great success on both orchids and African violets. Click the #advertisement link to learn more about this excellent product, or to order it right here, directly from Amazon.
Espoma Organic Orchid Mix. Espoma Organic Orchid Mix is the perfect potting medium for my orchids. It’s formulated from aged pine bark, horticultural charcoal, perlite, limestone (for the adjustment of pH), and yucca extract. Since orchids are epiphytic – they grow in the grooves and fissures in the bark of trunks of large trees with their roots substantially exposed to the air – the light and breathable formulation of Espoma Organic Orchid Mix perfectly approximates each orchid’s natural growing medium. My own Phalaenopsis orchids have thrived and bloomed for years while growing in this excellent potting medium. I just can’t say enough about this wonderful organic potting mix. Click the #advertisement link to learn more about this excellent product, or to order it right here, directly from Amazon.
I hope you’ve enjoyed reading “In the Midst of Plant Lives,” and I hope you found it maybe just a little bit helpful. At the very least, I’ve probably got you more than halfway convinced that I’m a full-on, plant-loving lunatic, and you’ve also got a line on the goods to help you do some loving of your own on your African violets and orchids. Not too bad a deal, right?
In any case, and as always, I’m very grateful for your kind interest and your readership.
Cheers, and Happy Gardening!
The Renaissance Garden Guy is a participant in the Amazon Associates Program. As an Amazon Associate, The Renaissance Garden Guy earns from qualifying purchases.
Additionally, The Renaissance Garden Guy is a participant in the Bluehost, SeedsNow, and A2 Hosting affiliate programs. The Renaissance Garden Guy earns a fee/commission each time a visitor clicks on an ad or banner in this site from one of these companies and makes a subsequent qualifying purchase.
Please click here to view The Renaissance Garden Guy Disclosure page.
You love and care for them, and in return they give you joy and beauty. Sounds like a perfect relationship to me! Keep caring for them, and keep delivering your excellent content here!
Thanks, Kevin – I really appreciate that! Yeah, there’s definitely some kind of plant/human symbiosis going on here that’s somehow edged over the border into love affair territory. It’s crazy, but it’s also undeniable. Plant love… who’d have ever thought? Thanks again, Kevin!
Wonderful piece concerning the interaction between owner/caregiver and plant .There is definitely a connection.
Thank you for reading it, Rick. I’m glad that you agree and can detect this very interesting (and surprisingly powerful) connection. I’m sure there are a lot of readers who think I’m crazy! Thanks again for giving it a read, and for your kind words. I’m grateful knowing that you “got it.”
One year – when I was still living in California – there was a severe drought. People were asked to not water their lawns – for starters. I had over 150 house plants in my apartment.
I stood in the middle of the living room to talk to all of them. I told them there was a severe water shortage and that from now on – until the drought went away – they were going to be watered with ‘gray’ water – from my daily shower. I told them that some of them might not like that – but that was the best I could do and that it was their choice to live through all of this or die.
So, for the next few months – until the rains finally came – they all got gray water. I only lost 6 babies from one pothos plant.
Annie, this is remarkable! What an incredible story! Your love, attention, and communication is what pulled your plants through and allowed them to survive a regimen of less than ideal watering. Anazing! As a true empath, you completely grasped the solemnity and profundity of the human-plant connection I described in my piece. Your own fascinating (and very touching) story underscores the fact of your personal empathy for, and sensitivity to, the little green lives in your care. And it convinces me that you more than caught my own drift. Thank you for recounting your wonderful story here, Annie, and, of course, thank you so much for reading my piece.
Spectacular. Thank you for sharing the story about your beloved African violet.
Thank you so much, Annie – I’m so glad that you liked the little guy’s story! After all these years, I still miss that little plant. It’s amazing how strong these bonds can become. Thanks once again, Annie.