I like plants but only in the last few years have I acquired any real skill or interest in taking care of them. It started with an “easy to care for” succulent. I bought it for my desk at work but when the beautiful little thing started turning gray, I took it home in search of better light. The windows in that house only had two speeds―full shade or full sun and the plant was never really at home. Then I moved and the new location came with a range of light options. I gave the succulent a nice spot on the piano with indirect light and it became so abundant and gorgeous that I embraced the identity of an amateur gardener. I started leaning into my love of plants and acquired all sorts of interesting flora, some did well and some I killed but every success pulled me into another plant.
Then a friend gave me a Myrtle topiary for my birthday and I fell in love with its contradictions. It was most elegant, stately looking thing but so very tiny and delightful. It reminded me of those single family homes that have driveways, entrance pillars and balconies that make them look like miniature villas. My tiny Myrtle flourished in the first spot I offered it by sprouting new growth quickly, and I couldn’t wait to replant it in a real pot instead of the plastic default it came in. Then summer came and I fertilized all my plants per the directions. All did well; the Mini Monstera, the Chinese Evergreen, the Prayer Plant…but the myrtle went into immediate shock. The leaves dried out and it lost all its vibrance. As I write, I am trying to resuscitate it with a twinge of guilt. How did I not realize that its delicate system couldn’t handle the fertilizer!
As care-related thoughts swirled in my head while watering my plants today―this one needs more shade, that more sun, this needs misting, that wants pruning―I realized that we humans aren’t so different after all. We have seasons that require different types of care, we have growth and rest cycles, we evolve as we grow and may need to be repotted into another environment or need a bit of pruning to remove excesses so we don’t break our structure with dead weight. And we get shocks to our system for a variety of reasons; including lack of care or wrong care. The important difference between plants and us is that we have the ability to change our environment by making adjustments ourselves instead of waiting for someone else. We are our own amateur gardeners. Of course, sometimes our experiments may injure us but these ongoing adjustments are part of the process of self-creation.
“We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.”― Maya Angelou
