Caring for plants is one of the most rewarding, healing and pleasant things I have ever experienced. The love I have for plants exist on an endless plane. My spirit is fueled by digging through dirt, watching seedlings sprout from a barren landscape and transform into lush foliage. I appreciate the power in dictating which plants live and which are uprooted, all the while dreading any form of pruning or thinning. I enjoy the daily effort poured into each plant, the time and hassle are always worth the result. But like any passion it is not without its draw backs.
Gardening of any form can be a heart wrenching and difficult experience, and holds a high rate of failure, sometimes with no blame on the gardener. As the stress and business of the post holiday season sets and work kicks off, I notice myself faltering with each of my indoor plants. The hardy ones like my philodendra, and African violets still thrive but show wear while the palm, succulents, and propagated plants are just getting by. Every morning I glance at them and notice the mildest changes. At least once in the past twenty days each of them has been over or under watered, some struggle because of the lack of sunlight or temperature and overall lack of care. Currently, I am avoiding fertilizing them for no apparent reason and am instead typing away at my computer.
Thats the thing about gardening. It can be forgiving. Not all plants can be saved, death is inevitable for some, others will never thrive even at the most experienced hand. Some will blossom when left untouched and forgotten in a corner, others will recover with the smallest drink of water. All possibilities beg for more without abusing the caretaker. A dead plant creates a blank space to be filled, struggling ones ask for effort, and thriving ones demand space. The room for growth will never cease and you as a gardener dictate the direction.
You must be logged in to post a comment.