I was born into a family with a history of heart disease and farming. My father is blessed with a green thumb but that gene didn't pass to me, the butter gene did. I will never be caught trading plant secrets unless I'm on the phone at 1-800 flowers, however I do know the butter fat content of a guernsey cow, it's 5%.
I am afflicted with the opposite disease, black thumb, and thanks to my children, the place where the plants reside in my home is called the corner of death. One day I heard my gentleman husband whispering, and I use that term loosely, ( I suppose you could take that two ways, but I only meant it one) to one of them on the phone,
"your mother has plants, 15 of them" but he said it like he was informing them I had some sort of exotic incurable disease, like something you'd have to look up on the internet and then convince your doctor you have.
"She's going to purify the air in the house and you need 15 plants, not 14 or 16. Gotta be 15. It's that Dr. Oz, gotta be, he's making my life, a living...well you know" Then the conversation was over.
I took photos of the plants to prove they were still living and emailed them to all the kids and it was good for awhile, and then the trouble started. First it was a shriveled leaf here, a yellow leaf there. Then the dirt started to get matted down. I repotted, got different dirt and different pots. I called in experts, learned how to dead head but my little plant family started to dwindle and went from 15 to 13. I started taking plants to my Dad for hospitalization and special care.
All my fears were starting to come true and I started sneaking out after my husband went to work to replace the dead plants with new ones out of desperation but it didn't work. I was now down to 10 plants and beginning to panic. Nothing seemed to help despite all my efforts, I couldn't sleep, the plants were taking over my life and all they did was sit there. How on earth did I manage to raise 4 children?
"I just don't understand this!" I declared outloud to absolutely no one at all and the truth is I don't have a clue. It did occur to me that some of the plants might be seasonal or sick, or depressed. Maybe there's a plant whisperer out there or the water in our town is sub par or the dirt is undernourished because it couldn't be that I took on more than I could handle. That would be nonsensical!
I hope to get a handle on it before the last leaf falls, which on a side note is my favorite O'Henry story. The Last Leaf. If you haven't read it, do so. If you're afflicted with the same plant problems as me take a page from the Pastry Girl, plant guide. Water your plants with bottled water, play songs for your plants by Robert Plant from Led Zeppelin and leave dishes of planters peanuts on the counter so they won't feel lonely. Other than that, I'm at a loss.
I am off to do something I know how to do. Bake!
All the best, Kate
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