Dandelions - a pretty flower in disguise of a weed

One of my Facebook friends, David Hobson, who writes about gardening and its occasional accompanying angst, reminded me in his comments about suburban-ites and their continous battle with the yellow weed. A while back when in a gardening mode, the advent of Spring and summer was a continuous challenge to sustain a yellow-free lawn and control dandelions, as shared in an ICanGarden.com column. Most likely people reading this will relate. Right?

In Spring, a young man's (or woman's for that matter) fancy likely turns to thoughts of - gardening! All through the winter months our gardening endeavours are confined to those beautifully, illustrated photos in landscaping magazines, or the order forms in seed catalogues. At long last, the season of re-birth has arrived, and we feel impelled to get moving. It's time to sharpen the mower and hand shear blades, feed the laws, rake the grass, and get started on all the other tasks which go along with achieving a beautiful, picturesque garden. 
   
Upon reflection, you have to ask yourself the real reason behind all the work put into achieving a weed-free, green lawn and colorful display of flowers. Search down deep inside and the answer is obvious: we want our garden to be better than our neighbors. What reason other than ego, would impel us to spend a fortune of money on a variety of products like grass seed, flower and grass fertilizer, manure, weed killer, insect control stuff, for such a short period of time? In the winter, did you care that your next door neighbors had more snow on their property, than on yours? Or that their shovel was bigger or newer? Of course not, because there is nothing to be gained in a display of snow, right?     The ideal lawn for most of us is one that is a rich shade of green, weed-free, and without any crab grass. Heaven forbid there should be any sign of this dastardly, wild specie which has a way of cropping up when you least expect it. Worse yet, are the dandelions which make our lawns their number one place to call home. They have a habit of moving into a neighborhood, settling in with ease, and are not concerned with their social position among the cultivated blooms.     In my opinion, these delightful, happy flowers have acquired a bad reputation over the years which is undeserved. What's wrong with them anyway, I ask you? It's just a case of snobbery, due to the common manner in which they grew. Gardeners won't tolerate them because they aren't genteel and refined like the snobby roses, or the fussy impatiens and their ilk, who are considered to be among the pedigreed variety. Dandelions prefer to sprout wild and free, wherever their seed may fall. A point in their favor is that they are accessible to everyone, regardless of social strata or financial situation.     Maybe we should learn to co-exist with them since they are not ugly flowers aesthetically, and are easy to cultivate. They do not discriminate between good lawns and bad lawns, and will flourish everywhere with a vengeance. How do we repay them for their undying devotion, showing up in our lawns year after year?     As soon as the first splash of yellow peaks through the grass blades, we whip out our sprayer, fill it with dandelion slayer stuff until they are wilted into submission, but never forever. They may succumb to the various extermination methods temporarily, but dandelion roots run deep. Once they decide to dig in, it's almost impossible to get rid of them, permanently. So, why try. Think of all the money and energy which could be saved having to travel back and forth to the garden centre, to purchase flowers. Dandelions will just be...there. This crop doesn't require watering, they love all types of weather, and are low maintenance plants. Once neighbors adapt to their presence, you'll be the talk of the neighborhood.  "My blank-blank, what a beautiful crop of dandelions you have this year. So healthy and yellow," people will comment enviously.  "Yup, best crop ever," you'll respond proudly. "Lost your weed killer dispenser, eh?", they'll say, in an attempt to pump you for the inside scoop on the success of your new crop.     Let's learn to co-exist with all the weeds which grow in harmony side-by-side the dandelions, since they proliferate in such large numbers, anyway. Why waste all our energy on their elimination when we could be doing other things during the summer like...hmm...repairing the snow blower, perhaps?  

The Lettuce Project update: day 3 and day 4. Signs of life?

Let's see now...so where were we? Or should we say - where are we now? Whatever.

Here is the day-by-day progress report, although readers might find it repetitive. Got up at 7 a.m. on Saturday, April 13, to bring in the paper but couldn't avoid a check on what I hoped was progress to report. Uttered a lot of " hmmmmm's" and "uh-huh's"...and then changed the water. Why you may well ask, did I change the water? Seemed like a good idea. What happens, say, if lettuce prefers pure, clean, tap water as an incentive for growth? Didn't want to take any chances so 'L' - that's what I've named the lettuce to personalize our relationship - now has daily changes of water.

Sun. April 14: Actually, toying with the idea of adding photographic images of my stump with roots immersed in an inch of water in a plastic container, to the blog page. After further thought, took three photos of the aforementioned lettuce from different angles and my findings are that it looked the same from all angles and really didn't merit photos - yet.

Mon. April 15: Not sure if it's wishful thinking but just may have detected little white shoots growing on the side of the stump not immersed in water. Perhaps they could have been there all along and went unnoticed...however I'm believing they are a positive sign that things may be progressing. After glancing into the container, my husband asked me when am I going to throw L away.

"It's growing! Can't you tell?" I reacted, rushing over to point out what I believe to be teeny shoots.

"Looks like it's turning brown," he responded. "Time to throw it out. It's gonna smell."

"The roots look very healthy," I said, swishing them around in a circular motion with my fore-finger. "We have to give them a chance to send a message to the lettuce stump to grow."

"Here's my message to them. 'Grow or out you go'!

There is hope in my heart that tomorrow will be the turning point. Visions of soft green lettuce leaves in a delicious bowl of salad inspire me to keep going. Tomorrow L will receive a musical treat in the form of Vivaldi's Four Seasons, "Spring." Let's just hope the other plants don't get jealous.

The Lettuce Project: Day 2

7:30 a.m.  At time of first examination, which would be 7:30 a.m., the lettuce roots look like... lettuce roots. I'm thinking of moving it up to the next shelf where they/it (are roots plural or single one wonders) would receive some direct light. Actually, I'm not sure if they should even be in direct light... Maybe the light will cause bacteria to form or something... So many questions and so few answers. Anybody want to jump in here and offer an opinion?

See...that's the enigma of undertaking a project in which one has little or no experience. True I've grown lettuce in the garden, which quickly went to seed, but that was a long time ago. The issue, as I view it, is whether leaves can be produced via a hydroponic lettuce that was but is no more. The lettuce by the way, was very tasty if that means anything. Will report back later.

Noon  Decided to move lettuce container to top shelf of plant stand. After conducting a cyber search focusing on the subject  - "how to grow Boston lettuce in water" - it seems, according to a few people who have tried this, achievable, although it was with romaine lettuce and celery. Didn't mention, though, whether it was hydroponic lettuce, which could make a difference. Thinking further and in my mind, growing it hydroponically would make it more feasible. Then again - what do I know? Came accross a YouTube video of someone who is or was successful and managed to achieve another lettuce out of it. I would be satisfied to grow a few leaves, never mind a lettuce, although eating another salad from a former salad would be nice.

The container water looked to me on the yellow-ish side although maybe that's as a result of some plant food added to the lettuce by the lettuce growers. Changed the water and will see if it makes a difference.

Thinking back to the vegetable gardening days, we shared our veggie output with local critters that enjoyed suburban gardens (skunks, rabbits et al) and used our veggies as an extension of their dietary needs. At least this won't be an issue. And so we wait for something to happen.

Maybe on day 3...

Spring - the garden beds are gone but the memory lingers on

Today I bought a geranium plant. In the scheme of things and being that this is Spring, it's not an unusual thing to do. Condo living is great but it's missing one vital component. I'm missing my garden.

While shopping at the supermarket, the front of the store was devoted to wooden display racks filled to capacity with annuals and hanging plants. Since it was an unusually warm sunny day, people were feeling the need to get down and dirty and feel the earth beneath their fingers. I know exactly how they feel.  Somehow, placing the plant on my still empty balcony gave me a feeling of kinship with gardeners and brought back memories of my garden.

Let me state for the record that my garden was not a display out of House and Gardens. Far from it. In fact there were more deaths than there were survivors. The wine-colored iris's growing in a bed on the side of the house could always be counted in the survivor column. They were my pride and joy because they required little care. Neighbors and people passing by frequently asked the secret in acquiring the magnificent display. Nothing - absolutely nothing other than separating the roots periodically. Mother Nature did the rest.

It's those rose bushes that tug at my heart. At this time of the year, I would be pondering whether the two remaining hybrid teas made it through the winter and/or whether they should be pulled. They were frequently in the in-between stage making a decision on their viability difficult. I've always been of the belief that roses in particular make slaves of their human caretakers having to primp, preen and fuss over them and in the end, they thank us by croaking. It was always touch and go and in a good year they would give me three roses each. In a bad year, they were afflicted black mold on their leaves but I loved them dearly. They are frequently in my thoughts.

I miss digging my fingers in the earth and feeling the soil sift through my fingers while preparing a home for new flowers and annuals. Our front lawn was composed primarily of dandelion leaves, which gave it a green shade and in dandelion season, the lawn was a mass of yellow flowers. It was an un-winable war trying to erradicate them and in the end, we conceded victory. In retrospect, perhaps we should have tried making dandelion wine or dandelion salad, since dandelion leaves sell at the supermarket. Had they asked us, we would have gladly donated ours for free.

It's been five years since we sold our house but the pull of the garden still seduces my senses. It's obvious to onlookers that we were gardeners since we embelish our balcony with hanging plants in addition to filling planters that we had brought with us, with annuals. There is no way I could part with my "pussycat" planter with the smiling black cat peeking out from behind trailing flowers. Neither could I leave the hand-made wooden planter behind given to me by my next door neighbor. In the end, you takes your planting as you get it. Meanwhile, there's always the geranium.

"In joy or sadness, flowers are our constant friends."

- Kozuko Okakura

Excuses don't count when it comes to hanging plants

Really, we never intended to be cruel to our hanging plants and now they’re paying us back. They can best be described in a state loitering between life and death, more to the latter as of today. In the end, it really doesn’t matter how honourable our intentions were because plants aren’t interested in excuses.

Every May we visit the various garden centers in search of a species that will stand out visually, add pizazz to our condo balcony, is easy to care for and are tough plants. Is that a lot to ask? The latter is important since we live near a river where it’s always windy, which in turn dries out the soil necessitating constant replenishment of water.

It was instant love-at-first-sight when we spotted calibrachoa, a relatively new species that resembles mini petunias overflowing with branches of coloured blooms, growing in a plastic hanging container. The mixture of bright yellow and orange flowers stole our hearts and judgement, obviously. Given the lush but overflowing state of the greenery and the size of the pot, we ignored the warning signs that over-crowding could be a problem. More flowers equals flashier showing, we assumed, plus the garden center clerk assured us the specie was easy to grow. Good enough reason for purchase, we decided.

Visually, they provided a visually colourful sight swaying in the wind but watering the plant was difficult, since it was almost impossible to know when or if the water was reaching the roots. To ensure that they were being adequately hydrated they received a half-litre of water, a lot of which seeped out the planter holes.

Rarely do we take a summer vacation that takes us away for more than a few days but this year was an exception. This meant that the plants were on their own for a week at the mercy of Mother Nature for liquid hydration. In retrospect we could have asked a neighbour to plant sit or if our plants could join someone else's plants on their balcony, but we didn’t. We believed that our plants would take care of themselves in our absence. Silly us! We took them down and placed near the balcony railing dependent upon natural conditions to provide a balance of sun and rain. Having watered the plants well and giving them a pep talk along with apologies, we left assuming they would be alive upon our return. Again, silly us.

It never occurred to us that the plants would or could – well – die or would give up in a mere week without water. Actually, they should have lasted longer but given their crowded state, their root systems most likely were packed too tightly together. Personally, I blame the seed company for over-crowding. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it! Much to our dismay, we returned to a brown-branched, somewhat shrivelled up and crispy dried out plant. What was once a colourful, lush and vibrant orange/yellow plant was now a collection of brown shrivelled-up branches of crispy nothing-ness. Rather than toss them out immediately, instead they were given a liberal watering and decided to monitor the situation for a week after which a decision would have to be made as to their viability. On the fourth day, one of the plants started turning green at the tips of the branches and suddenly some flowers appeared, leading us to believe that a miraculous re-birth was imminent – and still more flowers. Unfortunately, it was a short lived omen and the green has turned to a deathly pallor of grey-ish/brown-ish. Such teases, our plants!

It’s obvious, at least to me that once new plant raisers and owners take over from garden centers to become the care givers to plants, we become responsible for their well being. Plants do not and will not stand for excuses and neither do they tolerate long-ish absences. Unless there’s another re-birth, tonight we’ll be bidding adieu to the calibrachoa duo on the river bank, at sunset. It will be a short ceremony to match our short relationship. It’s the least we could do.

Once a gardener - always a gardener

In as much as a move to condo living is a welcome change Spring is the time of year that I miss my garden most. Normally, I would be joining the throngs of gardening enthusiasts at the garden centres stocking up on top soil and supplementing their gardening tool collection. It’s always surprising, at least to me, how people are willing to pay for – well – dirt in the desire to enhance their chances of a visually spectacular floral display and vegetable output. When you think about it, there is dirt virtually everywhere you look but gardeners have to have special dirt. Drop by any centre and an entire section is filled with bags of top soil of every type and purpose. Thinking back, adding top soil worked for all the gardeners in our neighbourhood but for whatever reason, disappeared for us with the first rain. There was also the reoccurring problem with grub attacks that didn’t help the situation. See what I mean? Once a gardener – always a gardener.

The question as to how we enjoy condo living is inevitably followed by, “do you miss your garden?” My stock answer is yes and no. Definitely miss the experience of getting down and dirty with my hands in the soil and no to having to mow the grass. Never told anyone until now but dandelions supplemented the sparse blades of grass and gave the lawn the green shade it wouldn’t have otherwise had.

Conversations with friends and acquaintances who are gardening enthusiasts enjoy regaling me with their plans for the coming season. I

“So how do you like condo living?” actually means, how could you give up your garden followed by, “we could never give up our house. We love growing things.”

Hey! I always did and still do. The change is in the way to grow things. Actually, can’t really call it gardening any more. We’re plant raising now. Upon moving into our condo in early summer four years ago, we purchased two Grecian-looking urns that were filled to over-flowing with a wide variety of annuals. The end result was nice and in an attempt to be organized, we even kept the plastic information sticks as a reminder which plants flourished. Unfortunately, the following year they were nowhere to be found and it’s still guess work. Some things don’t change.

Have to admit, though, I do still love looking at the seed displays and mentally select the species that appeal to me. There is the occasional conversation with strangers at the displays but the discussion stops at one point when the talk turns to flower beds and veggies. Seems that container gardening doesn’t make it with some people. It’s also at this time of the year that I experience pangs of loneliness for my two surviving rose bushes, a hybrid tea and a floribunda, whose life force always hovered between life and death. In a good year, they produced two roses each. Wonder if they’re still in the land of the living or tease the new owners into believing they’re worth the trouble. Reality returns with the quick reminder of the frequent visits to the composter and the plethora of plants that received last rites.

In the choosing flowers, we still have differing views on the selection process for the window boxes and urns, centering on species and color schemes. I like to stick to two main colors while my husband prefers a wide variety of...everything. The truth is that he’s color-blind and is in denial.

“Nature doesn’t pick color schemes,” he will assert in defence of his choices, “so why should we?”

Last year, though, we did agree to stick to three main shades. Three is better than eight – let’s leave it at that. At present we’re in discussions focusing on the cultivation of tomatoes in a pot and whether or not there is a space for them, physically and aesthetically. Once that issue is settled, I’ll broach the subject of herbs. The barbeque still needs a corner.

(Paintings courtesy of yours truly, are available for purchase)

So what's your houseplant's sign?

Our houseplants – can't live with them and we certainly can't live without them. It occurred to me that perhaps the survival of houseplants could be (note the word "could") determined by the planets. It isn't such a far-fetched theory given many people believe their future is affected by the stars and planetary concurrences.

An acquaintance claims to buy houseplants for herself and others to match known personality traits of the new plant-owner-to-be at time of purchase. It's her theory (and it’s as good as any) that the longevity and subsequent fate of a new acquisition of the chlorophyll kind can be determined with the use of an astrological chart. There’s no real means in which to check this out since their longevity is in the hands of the fates for the most part. The best that can be achieved is to ascertain the position of the sun, the moon and planetary alignments in the hope that it's a good plant fit and that both will have a long and healthy relationship. Accent on the long.


Aries: Personality traits: original, pioneering, courageous and direct. A plant like apidistra will tolerate tough love. In other words, even if you go to Florida and forget to make watering arrangements, it'll probably forgive you.

Taurus: Personality traits: patient, reliable, enduring, stable, trustworthy, affectionate. People born under this sign are the type of owners who will care for their plant, as long as there's traces of green indicating life within. Consider a parlsey plant or perhaps a dandelion.

Gemini: Personality traits: intellectual, adaptable, versatile, witty, lively, amusing. They're among the type of plant raisers who take people for a plant tour of their home, regaling them with stories about life and death in the plant kingdom and all the latest new products on the market place. They would do well with a chia pet plant.

Cancer: Personality traits: kind, sensitive, nurturing, imaginative, patriotic. Cancer-ians tend to buy plants that can be shared with other plant lover. In fact they are known to bring a home grown plant as a gift, instead of store bought items. A Venus Flytrap could be an interesting conversation piece.

Leo: Personality traits: magnanimous, generous, creative, enthusiastic, dynamic. Leo or lion-type houseplant raisers, buy their plants to fit with their latest renovation project. They always make sure that the plant's leaves don't clash with the wall color, a decorating no-no. An orchid to go with the color scheme of the walls would be a good match.

Virgo: Personality traits: discriminating, analytical, practical, meticulous, modest, clean. Virgo types will glean every available morsal of information before embarking upon the purchase of a plant. They always re-pot outdoors because dirty earth on the floor is not allowable. Neither are dead plants, which can be problematic. A Zebra Plant with its exotic appearance could be a possibility.

Libra: Personality traits: charming, harmonious, suave, diplomatic, social and artistic. For Libra people it's the pot that's important, rather than the plant specie, and they'll go out of their way to purchase a designer pot, which they gladly show off to their friends and ignore the plant. A Sago Palm planted in a bought on sale pot would make it look like you paid a lot of green for it.

Scorpio: Personality traits: loyal, truthful, persistent, determined, deep. You can always count on these people to be the ideal plant sitters, when going on vacation. They take their job very seriously and will adopt discarded plants rather than see them left behind by moving companies.
An Air Plant that is relatively easy to grow anywhere is a nice gift to give when leaving your house plants with a Scorpio to go on an 'extended vacation.'

Sagittarius: Personality traits: jovial, optimistic, frank, scrupulous, sense of humor. Blessed with a sense of humor among other interesting traits, some Sagittariuns are known to communicate one-on-one with their plants, via mental telepathy. They also hear plants talking to each other. A Prayer Plant with leaves that are open during the day and close at night would be a good companion.

Capricorn: Personality traits: cautious, ambitious, prudent, disciplined. Capricornians won't buy a new houseplant unless they have a specific place in mind for the new acquisition. They tend to be on the unemotional side, and would never allow themselves to get emotionally involved with a plant. A cactus that is...there is a good option.

Aquarius: Personality traits: humanitarian, friendly, progressive, experimental. These people are the plant sharers of the world, and will take their plants with them on business trips. They have also been known to give away plants in lieu of tips. A herb plant would do them well on their next business trip.

Pices: Personality traits: compassionate, humble, sympathetic, intuitive. With their very sensitive natures, Pices people will go into mourning upon the demise of a favorite plant. Some have even been known to sport a green arm band, and a dried stem from the dearly departed.
A philodendron is toughie plant that abhors the compost pile.

And there you have our Eleanor's Astral House Plant Growing Guide to help you understand the true nature of those among us, who take plant raising very seriously. I mean it (wink-wink).

The garden has gone to seed but hope springs eternal

Not too long ago, I used to garden. Ask any gardener who will confirm, there's nothing like getting down and dirty working the soil with your hands. It's probably a flash-back to the time as children when we spent our summer days revelling in the dirt and sandbox. As mentioned, gardening is now an activity discussed in the past tense.

It's been three years since we sold our house and went condo and I'm still afflicted with pangs of abandonment. Not that the garden was a showplace out of House and Garden or anything but it was mine and we had an understanding: I would plant stuff and it would grow, maybe. It took me years to cultivate the three rose bushes in the back yard and when they finally produced blooms, I felt like a new mother revelling in the delight of her new offspring. My favorite was the tangerine florabunda that never failed to produce at least one flowering, while the pink hybid tea gave me a few token buds in a good year. We had a combative relationship to say or write the least. As you can tell - I'm feeling sentimental and missing them all.

Having moved into the same neighborhood, I frequently make a point of passing by the house and glance out of the car window at the new plant additions or demises. Although the house is no longer ours, I feel a sense of responsibility as to their welfare. In retrospect, it would have been better to keep them in memory. In order to cut back on the cost of annuals, perennials were planted over time in the hope they would fill in the spaces. The rock garden was now covered entirely with wood chips with no sign of my plethora of growing plants, while the rock garden shrubs were transformed into small trees. It's their house now I tell myself wondering if my beloved roses are still in the land of the living.

These days my horticultural endeavors are relegated to balcony gardening having brought along my containers and flower boxes, which are filled to capacity with annuals in the summer. It's not the same but I'm still occupied with dead-heading the flowers and watering non-stop since the earth in containers require freqent watering. Two grecian urns were also added that are also filled with an assortment of flowers. Our condo is located near the river where our municipality focuses on planting natural species that are common to this type of area, are visually attractive, yet retain the soil.

It's winter and I'm planning for summer cultivation, perhaps adding some mini tomatoes. Maybe I'll go all out and try a small rose bush, knowing from personal experience that roses make slaves of their cultivators. I'm used to it! When it's all said and done, a gardener is always a gardener, even on a balcony.

Watch your thoughts - your plant could know!

Keep this between ourselves but I always believed that plants know what we're thinking. Now there's scientific evidence lending some validity to my belief based on some recent experiments conducted by scientists in Poland. New research shows that plants "can think and remember," according to a news story published recently. Of course! Any plant caregiver can attest to this. It's just so...logical.

Plants are able to "remember" and "react" to information contained in light, according to the researchers. In their experiment, scientists showed that light shone on one leaf caused the whole plant to respond. Duh! If you were snoozing or the plant equivalent and somebody opened up flashlight beam or beacon on you, you'd react too! Unlike humans plants can't scream out: "get that stupid light out'ta or off"a my leaves or else!" I mean, plants can't really do much in the way of defending themselves against - well - anything. One can only imagine plants horror upon sensing lawn trimming equipment approaching and knowing the ensuing carnage to follow. But I digress.

"We shone the light only on the bottom of the plant (the plant used was the arabidopsis specie) and we observed changes in the upper part," explained Professor Stanislaw Karpinski from the Warsaw University of Life Sciences in Poland, who led this research. "And the changes proceeded when the light was off... This was a complete surprise."

It shouldn't be. What else could a plant do in the way of a warning to the upper leaf level that light was approaching. The entire experiment must have had the same effect as a flashing lighthouse beacon.

Seems that plants have the capacity to relay a message to all the leaves that a dose of light is imminent. There is no mention in the piece the exact reason for conducting this type of experiment but perhaps humans have a lot in common with plants. In his previous work, Professor Karpinski found that chemical signals could be passed throughout whole plants - allowing them to respond to and survive changes and stresses in their environment.

As a plant caregiver to numerous plants over the years, some successfully and some not-so-successfully, I've always had this feeling that plants decide whether to thrive or even live based on their like or dislike for the person giving them their basic necessities. Caregivers that frequently neglect to give them water for example or place them in a drafty corner with little light, are reprimanded by the plants by dropping their leaves or a not dead-but-not-quite-alive appearance, conversely, people who talk to their plants with praise and feed them vitamins are rewarded with growth and new leaves. Then again, it's just my opinion for what it's worth and heaven knows I've had many plants that have gone-to-the-composter-in-the-sky over the years.

"This requires an appraisal of the situation and an appropriate response - that's a form of intelligence," concluded Professor Christine Foyer, a plant scientist from the University of Leeds.
Of course - I could have told them that.

Obituary announcement - death of the green kind

It is with great sorrow that I announce the demise and passing and death of one of my senior house plants, Ms (or Mr.) Christmas Cactus. Ms Cactus had been ailing for a while and in spite of generous injections of water and "TLC" - she has gone to meet others of her kind in that great garden in the sky.

There is a certain amount of personal guilt attached to this death since her earth had not been changed for a number of years. Okay. Seven years. Its demise most likely is due to indifference on my part to CC's well being and root system. To my credit, though, I did turn over the soil on occasion - okay twice but that counts - to give it breathing space. Obviously, this wasn't enough to sustain her (or his) life force.

In retrospect I don't think I really liked CC that much but since its a living thing, I didn't have the guts to discard it. Instead, all I did was give generous doses of liquid to assuage my indifference when I remembered, and that was the extent of care on my part. I should have transplanted it years ago - sigh - life is full of should-have, would-have, could haves.

CC even survived the move from her placement on top of the fridge in our former home, to the second shelf on a plant stand in the dining room. Maybe there wasn't enogh light or possibly she (or he - go know!) was too old for a sudden change of surroundings. Plants are so finicky at the best of times. As I wrote - go know.

Funeral arrangements have not yet been finalized but most likely it will get a final send-off in front of the garbage shoot down the hall. Perhaps - depending on if anyone else is within hearing range - a few departing words will be spoken in addition to remembering how she brought forth pretty flowers in earlier years.

RIP Ms (or Mr.)Christmas Cactus - your spirit will live on in your replacement. One last bit of advice: never personalize your relationship with your plant and then ignore it. They know.

THE PLANT DOCTOR IS OUT!

by Eleanor Tylbor

Today I'm feeling guilty even though there's no real reason for it. As a plant raiser it's common to assume the blame for the demise of a favoured specie and there's always the usual post-mortem 'should-have-would-have-could-have' that follows. It's bad enough having to deal with the death of one's own plants but when they belong to 'others' the guilt is disconcerting to say the least. What type of an explanation can be offered in the way of an excuse? It was an accident? A good news/bad news account i.e. your plant enjoyed living in the flower box and provided a flourish of color. Bad news: it croaked?

Am I anguished? Consumed with guilt? You bet!

A couple of weeks ago I was asked to intervene in some problematic tropical plants living in an indoor flower box that were slowly dying.

"You know all about house plants," were the exact words uttered by the owner who handed me the box in the hope of a miracle resurrection.

Do I know about plants! Moi! The person who once had a gardening show on public access television, focusing on how to get the best out of an almost-dead garden.


KNOW: (vb) knew/knowing; to perceive directly; have understanding or direct cognition of; also to recognize the nature of: to be acquainted or familiar with


Many green species from many sources have graced the corners and windows of our home ranging from your store-bought tropical and floral types to more earthly beginnings as fruit seeds. However death has stalked many - more than many - following my interventions. This isn't the type of information one divulges when asked to administer first aid of the chlorophyll-type.

Anyway, the ailing box of plants, a gift from a valued business acquaintance, held the primo position in the reception area where it could be admired by everyone entering the office. Once the deterioration process set in and the inevitable slip into the hanging on for dear life but not quite dead state, the plant was wisely removed from public view. It was for this reason it ended up on my doorstep, literally and figuratively.

Asking a self-professed "green-thumber" the seemingly innocent question as to whether a plant can be saved is akin to issuing a personal challenge, and intimating that there is doubt it can be achieved by mere human intercession. Many plant people consider themselves divinely blessed with special healing abilities.

A cursory examination revealed mini spider webs indicating flying visitors in a feasting mode. Let it be stated for the record that enlightening neophyte owners to the presence of spider mites is not a wise move, since it inevitably triggers a fit of scalp scratching followed by a quick departure. There wasn't even enough time to explain that spider mites are vegetarians.

Amateurs!

While towering over the plants to assess the extent of the problem there was this brief sensation of being omnipotent with the power of life and death in my hands. Following a brief pep talk that included a flourish of compliments regarding their leaves and species, they were given a natural pick-me-up tonic frequently administered to my own houseplants, consisting of dissolved gelatine powder in water. Most of my plants - those that remain - have always responded favourably by producing a flourish of new leaves. To maximize growth potential the box of plants was placed in an area that received diffused light but not direct sun light, which could burn their leaves. In retrospect those plants received better care than members of my family.

Eleanor's Plant Growing Diary

Day 1. Assessment of problem: black tips on leaves indicating something is wrong. Solution: give plants a healthy dose of dissolved gelatine in water

Day 2. One of the plants keeled over and died last night. Solution: remove evidencedead plant

Day 3. Black tips have extended down to cover half the leaves on some of the plants. Checked houseplant book for possible cause. None available although there was mention of an incurable virus. Solution: isolate plant to another area of the room that doesn't receive much light. A bad move on my part.

Day 4. Woke up to yet another dead plant. The box is beginning to look sparse. Solution: spread out leaves of remaining plants to make it appear more full than it is. Gave the plants another pep talk i.e. "please-oh-please no more death!"

Day 5. Completely and utterly demoralized. Out of the original six plants, only three live and two are ivy. I mean, who can kill ivy? Perhaps not a good question in light of current events. According to another plant book they probably acquired an incurable virus at point of origin, which cannot be cured, even with divine intervention or my help. Go explain that to the owner!

Day 6. Turned over soil with plastic spoon. Figured if it works in the garden, it couldn't do any harm in the box. Accidentally dug up an unseen plant originally thought to be dead

Day 7: Seriously considering replacing the "dearly departed" with some new plants. Problem exists in that I can't remember the types of plant and which went where

Day 8. Received a phone call from the owner as to an update and was advised that the box is being picked up. Panic!

Day 9. Owner will be here in an hour. Panic!

Day 10. Plant box has gone along with my credibility. I mean, it was only plants, after all! There was no reason for the name-calling! Gave owner one of my avocado plants in the way of an apology along with the assurance of free avocados within three months

In case anybody wants to know, the doctor is out. Got that?

FITTONIA LIVES...FOR NOW

My fittonia is still in the land of the living but no thanks to Walmart. If there's an underlying (or underlaying...whatever) message to this whole experience is don't trust Walmart's plastic information sticks because they lie. Perhaps 'lie' would be a little too strong. Let's say the sticks don't know anything about the plants in which they are inserted.

My stick as did all the other information sticks so that should say something in itself, instructed the care giver to "little light. Very little water." My interpretation of these words was to place it away from direct light and in a shady place and to water it only when the soil was dry. By now I should have developed a sense of humor when it comes to houseplant raising but the truth is - I haven't. Their eventual demise always gets to me.

It began with the shrivelling of the leaves and then their eventual fall followed by the stalks losing color. Before moving we had an intimate chat as to our relationship in that it would have a place in the new apartment as long as it showed signs that it wanted to live. Things didn't look promising for a while, however, desperation and a strong desire to assume the role of giver and extender of life, I gave it a healthy dose of water and placed it in front of a window that received diffused light. Behold and verily, verily - a miracle happened! Over the the next few days the plant's white veined leaves returned to their former healthy state and tiny buds appeared at the leaf junctions. To say I was jubilant - and shocked - but obviously pleased with this miracle (at least I like to think it was and is a miracle) would be an understatement.

So now fittonia receives the conventional houseplant care and appears to be loving it. Keep my experience in mind when Walmart has a sale on houseplants: information sticks are liars.

Day 2: fittonia update: the news is not so good

So as instructed on the plastic information stick(?) I've been keeping my fittonia away from direct light...whatever that means. Presumably, it's telling me to keep it away from the sun.

Check.

The stick instructions also maintain that it doesn't like too much water.

Check.

However, barely 24 hours in my care and home, the tips of the leaves don't look so well. They are sort-of shrivelling and turning the dreaded brownish-blackish.

A consult was in order so I thumbed through the pages of my "Directory of House Plants" for some help or direction to take. According to the book Fitty needs high humidity and my house is drrrry. This does not bode well. The proverbial icing on the cake is the sentence: "Difficult to keep unless the humidity is high, but plants do well in a bottle garden."

Bottle garden?

This got me thinking. Perhaps - just perhaps - I could slice the top off a 2 litre soft drink bottle and Fitty could move in. Kind of a "bubble plant" type of existence. The attention value would be great especially when friends visit.

"Um...I don't want to seem instrusive," one of my nosy friends would most likely comment, "but is there any reason why your plant is in a Coke bottle?"

Going into lengthy explanations as to the rationale behind my move i.e. bottle+humidity=life for Fitty, would just make me appear even more weird than they already believe I am. Or I could place Fitty in a plastic zip-lock bag sprayed with water and see what happens.

So today Fitty is moving in to a zip lock bag. Maybe it'll work...or maybe it won't. More reports forthcoming.

Plastic plant information sticks are liars!

A new "baby"of the chlorophyll-kind has joined the "family" known as a "Fittonia" and although its a real cutie, I see heartbreak ahead. Bought at Walmart for $1.69 the plastic information stick advises that this specie likes "a little light and very little water." Problem is how valid are the instructions especially when it's applicable to 200 other plants types?

The way that I see it and read things, all tropical plants fall into one of two categories:

a) "Little light. Very little water."

or...

b) "Lots of light. Water generously"

That's it folks!

According to information obtained on the Web, this specie requires extra-special care. Here's a photo of the newcomer on the Wiki site and some information:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fittonia

Can't help but note the somewhat disturbing blurb, "without water for a few days, this plant is known to "faint" but is easily revived with a quick watering and resumes its healthiness."

Oh gawd! Just what I need! A flower that faints at the slightest provocation! More guilt! If I go away for a short or longer vacation, my son who believes that all plants are created equally could either over-water or under-water her/him/it!

Furthermore, "the Fittonia is known to be difficult to grow so it is best bought at a nursery then cared for."

This just might be a really short relationship.

Anyway, according to the instructions and advice on the plastic stick, Fittonia likes "little light - Very little water." Maybe yes and maybe no.

What I want to know is who writes these information blurbs, anyway? Is it somebody who actually knows about plant raising or someone in public relations who also writes blurbs for fortune cookies? Perhaps on occasion she/he gets them mixed up and we houseplant raisers get the wrong information. Someone might crack open a fortune cookie and hoping to get some advice on their love life, might instead read: "lots of light. Water generously." At least that would explain all the deaths in the "family."

So Fittonia - I'll call her Fitty for short - is bathing in sunlight. Why I don't know because maybe she would prefer shade. I think she would prefer shade but go know! In the end a guess is as good as a plastic stick.


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