January 11th, 2022

 
     Recently a couple of friends have entrusted me with beautiful plants: a really lush fern, a cool jade plant and few others including a cyclamen that I’m really struggling to keep alive. I say they’ve “entrusted” these plants to me, though they actually gave them to me, but I’m sure when they gifted them to me, they were trusting that I would keep them alive. My track record with plants is not great. In the past I have routinely killed two hanging baskets of fuchsia every summer, a first one and then the replacement one. My record is consistent enough that my florist friend Linda, from Riff’s Greenhouse, should have cut me off at some point. And possibly added me to some kind of “Do Not Sell To” list shared by area greenhouses.
   I was given a small Christmas cactus about 10 years ago, and kept it in my office at work. A few years into the cactus’ sad, barely-watered life in my office, a co-worker appeared one day for a “plant intervention,” she said, and took the cactus. She returned it two years later. It was huge, in a planter about four times the size of the original pot, and looking like the Christmas cactuses. I envy in other people’s homes. When I asked what her tricks were to getting the plant to flourish so well, she said, “Abby, I watered it once a week.”
   Motivated by the newly returned, flourishing cactus, now the biggest plant I’ve ever owned, I decided to take on another plant or two. So along with the Christmas cactus (which is still blooming now) I purchased a small ivy plant, knowing that they are fairly indestructible. And it’s doing fine! I also got a small palm-like plant that continues to grow and amaze me.
   Gaining confidence in my plant-growing skills, I accepted the recent offers from these two friends, and now have two windowsills full of plants and along with a cool plant stand made from a sturdy tree branch, with cross sections of tree for shelves, that’s loaded with plants as well. I like having the greenery as part of my home, and enjoy the routine of watering, weekly for some, twice weekly for others, and figuring out which plants like what amount of sunlight and from which direction. (I’m struggling with the cyclamen – leaves are turning yellow, any advice?)
   Although I’ve come to enjoy my watering routine, I did consider getting some of those “self-watering bulbs” if things didn’t go well. I’ve seen them in catalogues for years. They are usually blown glass bulbs with long stems that you fill up with water and then stick the stem into the dirt of a potted plant, and somehow the water releases at a steady rate or “when needed,” as one catalogue described. Some of the bulbs come in different colors now and some are even shaped like birds or mushrooms. Recently I saw a flamingo-shaped bulbed and wondered if it would damage the plant to add food coloring to the water to make the flamingo pink.
   The idea of being able to continually hydrate a plant made me think about what nurtures us, and if we absorb it continually. I often ask patients I meet through my work what is it that brings them joy, or peace, or comfort. Sometimes they answer right away. “My grandchildren are my joy.” “I find great peace in walking in the woods.” “Spending time in prayer is comforting to me,” or more likely, “when I am with my family (or my spouse, or my cat) I am at peace.” Sometimes they struggle with the question, which is telling as well.
   I’ve never directly asked anyone, “What feeds you? What nurtures you?” but it seems that what nurtures us, and feeds our hearts and souls, is just as important as what brings us joy, peace, and comfort. What is it that really sustains us? Maybe it’s a combination of things – meaningful work, caring for family and friends, pursuing adventures and challenges, working for justice, building our faith and spiritual practices. My guess would be that it’s also what makes us laugh out loud, what makes us laugh really hard, unable to stop, tears rolling down our cheeks. And we likely don’t do enough of that. I’m not sure I remember the last time that happened to me. That’s telling as well.
   I’ve opted not to get the continuous-hydrating systems for my plants, because I’ve enjoyed the challenge of figuring how much water they need and when, which are nourished by sunshine and which prefer shade. I’ve learned that my flourishing fern responds to having water sprayed on its leaves. So, there’s something to figuring out what works best for each plant rather than adopting a system for all of them. It’s likely the same with us. And as we lean into a new year, perhaps it’s a good time to think about what feeds us, what the best way for us to say hydrated and nurtured. And if I can figure it out for myself, maybe I’ll try to figure it out for a hanging fuchsia plant this summer.