It Takes a Village to Raise a Cactus - December 11, 2016
I love plants. I really do. I love them raw, fried, boiled, baked, you name it. But I do not seem to love caring for plants if “end results” means anything.
Last summer we moved into our life lease (non-profit apartments for seniors) and the woman who lived there before, left behind what looked to be a rubber plant. If you remember Elmyra from “Pinky and the Brain,” you’ll know the emotions I had. "I'm gonna hug you and kiss you and love you forever...”
Food is love for me, so I went out and bought some rich potting soil. I dumped the old soil, drenched the new stuff, and stuck “Planty” back in. (Not an original name I know, but probably best not to name something you are going to slaughter.)
Planty started turning brown and looking swollen. Oh no. My sister-in-law Colleen happened to be visiting, and I showed her my patient. She said to me, “You do know that this is a Christmas CACTUS, and that you are DROWNING it.” Oh! Thankfully she offered to take it home to resuscitate it and I expect she has promised poor Planty that her days of water torture are over.
I am by nature a determined person – I may have to work twice as hard to get a quarter of the results – but dagnabbit, I keep on keepin’ on. In Arizona, we had a pot full of soil sitting in front of our trailer and I was wondering what kind of plant to put in it. What couldn’t I kill other than plastic flowers? And then, AHA, the Miracle of #134 Dripping Springs – a cactus started growing on the top of our carport!
You may well be asking how a cactus could grow on top of our carport. Well, it hadn’t been shovelled off for three years and trust me, the Southern Arizona monsoons can blow up a lot of sand and leaves. And now there was a “baby” – a little fuzzy-wuzzy, just for me. My inner Elmyra outed again!
My hubs, Laur, decided to sweep off our carport – why the hurry, I don’t know – and he uprooted the little fellow. I dug a hole in the soil in the pot and stuck “Spiny” in. I did water him, I admit. OK, twice, but then I put the pot in the sun, along with a metal cat to keep him company, and I am doing my best to ignore him. When it comes to my gardening skills, benign neglect beats smother mother.
*****
Benign neglect may also describe my marital skills. It never dawned on me that my senior citizen husband shouldn’t be dangling on a ladder, holding onto the roof with one hand, and attempting to “rake” all the debris down with his other.
...Until one of our fellow trailer parkers – Dick, who is 97 years old and goes to our church – offered to hold the ladder for Laurence. How sweet. Thankfully for both, Laur was just about finished with his task. All the stuff he swept off will likely stay on our driveway for a while. A man doesn’t want to be without a job to do (and you’ll notice that I haven’t offered to clean it up).
If cleanliness is next to Godliness, Laur and I are in trouble.
Last summer we moved into our life lease (non-profit apartments for seniors) and the woman who lived there before, left behind what looked to be a rubber plant. If you remember Elmyra from “Pinky and the Brain,” you’ll know the emotions I had. "I'm gonna hug you and kiss you and love you forever...”
Food is love for me, so I went out and bought some rich potting soil. I dumped the old soil, drenched the new stuff, and stuck “Planty” back in. (Not an original name I know, but probably best not to name something you are going to slaughter.)
Planty started turning brown and looking swollen. Oh no. My sister-in-law Colleen happened to be visiting, and I showed her my patient. She said to me, “You do know that this is a Christmas CACTUS, and that you are DROWNING it.” Oh! Thankfully she offered to take it home to resuscitate it and I expect she has promised poor Planty that her days of water torture are over.
I am by nature a determined person – I may have to work twice as hard to get a quarter of the results – but dagnabbit, I keep on keepin’ on. In Arizona, we had a pot full of soil sitting in front of our trailer and I was wondering what kind of plant to put in it. What couldn’t I kill other than plastic flowers? And then, AHA, the Miracle of #134 Dripping Springs – a cactus started growing on the top of our carport!
You may well be asking how a cactus could grow on top of our carport. Well, it hadn’t been shovelled off for three years and trust me, the Southern Arizona monsoons can blow up a lot of sand and leaves. And now there was a “baby” – a little fuzzy-wuzzy, just for me. My inner Elmyra outed again!
My hubs, Laur, decided to sweep off our carport – why the hurry, I don’t know – and he uprooted the little fellow. I dug a hole in the soil in the pot and stuck “Spiny” in. I did water him, I admit. OK, twice, but then I put the pot in the sun, along with a metal cat to keep him company, and I am doing my best to ignore him. When it comes to my gardening skills, benign neglect beats smother mother.
*****
Benign neglect may also describe my marital skills. It never dawned on me that my senior citizen husband shouldn’t be dangling on a ladder, holding onto the roof with one hand, and attempting to “rake” all the debris down with his other.
...Until one of our fellow trailer parkers – Dick, who is 97 years old and goes to our church – offered to hold the ladder for Laurence. How sweet. Thankfully for both, Laur was just about finished with his task. All the stuff he swept off will likely stay on our driveway for a while. A man doesn’t want to be without a job to do (and you’ll notice that I haven’t offered to clean it up).
If cleanliness is next to Godliness, Laur and I are in trouble.