Plant Butcher - October 5, 2019
1. Colee
I saw a cartoon the other day that so reminded me of a situation Laur and I/we had happen in Sudbury. (I caused it; Laur shared it.) The backstory. I am terrible with plants. I never keep them because I will kill them. I drown cacti, I dehydrate succulents.
Our friends, the Vs, on the other hand, loved plants. The hubs, Ian (not his read name), always had a patio full of beautiful flowers and plants.
There was one I particularly loved – the coleus. I loved the fact that it always looked mildly out of control – for the Vs. For us, it looked downright disciplined.
At the end of the season, our friends just composted their plants. And this made perfect sense. But I had become attached to Colee so I asked if I could bring it home to see if I could keep it alive over the winter.
It was massive, but we had a massive farmhouse kitchen at 465 Loach’s Rd. None of the baking, just the size. And I hung Colee over the two easy chairs we had in the kitchen. To be fair, I hung it closer to mine. Was I being thoughtful of my hubs? Nah, there just happened to be hook in the ceiling there where a lamp used to hang.
Twice a week I watered Colee, but I should have taken stock of the weight of the plant. I was very likely overwatering it. The soil was getting very wet and heavy.
And one day, CRASH! The hook pulled away from the celling and the plant crashed onto my chair. A soft landing, at least. (Thankfully, I wasn’t sitting in it. Hubs may have a different opinion.)
Not sure what we did with the plant after that. I expect we just moved the plant to the floor and would notice, every once in a while, that there was a hole in our ceiling. Eventually Laur just moved the plant out to the compost when he was vacuuming.
What did I learn from this? Not plant care, I’m afraid. But I never asked to have the V’s coleus again at year end, and they never offered.
2. Bazzee
I had a grand idea. One of our fellow Jubilee Place friends has a main floor apartment with a patio like we do. And she grows a garden on it. Also, we have the option of having a box garden in the back yard of JP.
I said to Laur, “Next year, we can grow herbs on our patio and veggies in a garden box at the back of building!” I volunteered to be in charge of the herbs – we can pick up a range of these at a local gardening shop. Laur would be assigned to manage the garden.
Normally, I run headlong into things. But this summer I was slowed down by my broken collarbone. I bought just one oregano plant at Food Basics and stuck in out on our patio - inside a basin to catch any rainwater. Laur said, “It’s BASIL!” A day later, I stripped it of most of the oregano’s leaves for adding to a stir-fry. Laur said, “It’s BASIL! And you don’t take all the leaves at once! You have to leave some!”
A few leaves did grow back and I left it to Laur to harvest the rest of the oregano. (It’s BASIL!) But then the rains came, and boy did they come. For two days. I forgot about the oregano and left it on the patio. Laur looked at it as we came in from GoodLife and said, “The basil is completely drowned.”
I thought he’d say something like “It’s dead, Jim!” (A quote from Star Trek.) But he doesn’t see this as being as humorous as I do. I think it’s because he knows how my mind works. In my mind, we will be gardeners in the year 2020, but because I’m so bad at it, Laur will have to take over. Like he has with the housework.
3. Plantee
This is a story I’ve told before. But my sister-in-law Colleen and I love it so.
When Laur and I moved into our apartment here at Jubilee Place, I asked the daughter of the former tenant what her plans were for the plant in the kitchen window. The gal who lived here before us was a gardener extraordinaire. She spent much of her spring and summer working on plants surrounding our patio. (They have died off under our care.)
She had no plans for the plant so I offered to care for it. I was determined that this plant – whatever it was – was going to thrive under my care. It looked a little sad, so I watered it. The next day, Plantee looked a little better, so I gave Plantee a little more water. The next day it didn’t look better, but it didn’t look worse. I gave it more water … and by the next day Plantee started to go downhill.
Oh no! I continued to water it faithfully, but Plantee went palliative… Thankfully my sister in law Colleen and her hubs Robin came over for a visit. Colleen has a green thumb. I showed her my sad plant friend and told her how I was trying to bring Plantee back to life.
Colleen looked at it, looked at me, and said, “You do realize this is a cactus, don’t you?!” More specifically it was a Christmas cactus, and without Colleen’s TLC would never have made it to Christmas. Colleen took it home, repotted it, and it’s now as happy as a Christmas Cactus that gets appropriate amounts of water.
*****
I think the natural pesticide industry ought to purchase vials of my blood. Instead of using natural pesticides with fancy names like neem, pyrethrum, rotenone, nicotine, sabadilla, and ryania - they could just mix a tablespoon of liquid Jan into a few gallons of water, and spray away.
Sadly though, it wouldn’t just be the weeds that would crumple like leaves…
I saw a cartoon the other day that so reminded me of a situation Laur and I/we had happen in Sudbury. (I caused it; Laur shared it.) The backstory. I am terrible with plants. I never keep them because I will kill them. I drown cacti, I dehydrate succulents.
Our friends, the Vs, on the other hand, loved plants. The hubs, Ian (not his read name), always had a patio full of beautiful flowers and plants.
There was one I particularly loved – the coleus. I loved the fact that it always looked mildly out of control – for the Vs. For us, it looked downright disciplined.
At the end of the season, our friends just composted their plants. And this made perfect sense. But I had become attached to Colee so I asked if I could bring it home to see if I could keep it alive over the winter.
It was massive, but we had a massive farmhouse kitchen at 465 Loach’s Rd. None of the baking, just the size. And I hung Colee over the two easy chairs we had in the kitchen. To be fair, I hung it closer to mine. Was I being thoughtful of my hubs? Nah, there just happened to be hook in the ceiling there where a lamp used to hang.
Twice a week I watered Colee, but I should have taken stock of the weight of the plant. I was very likely overwatering it. The soil was getting very wet and heavy.
And one day, CRASH! The hook pulled away from the celling and the plant crashed onto my chair. A soft landing, at least. (Thankfully, I wasn’t sitting in it. Hubs may have a different opinion.)
Not sure what we did with the plant after that. I expect we just moved the plant to the floor and would notice, every once in a while, that there was a hole in our ceiling. Eventually Laur just moved the plant out to the compost when he was vacuuming.
What did I learn from this? Not plant care, I’m afraid. But I never asked to have the V’s coleus again at year end, and they never offered.
2. Bazzee
I had a grand idea. One of our fellow Jubilee Place friends has a main floor apartment with a patio like we do. And she grows a garden on it. Also, we have the option of having a box garden in the back yard of JP.
I said to Laur, “Next year, we can grow herbs on our patio and veggies in a garden box at the back of building!” I volunteered to be in charge of the herbs – we can pick up a range of these at a local gardening shop. Laur would be assigned to manage the garden.
Normally, I run headlong into things. But this summer I was slowed down by my broken collarbone. I bought just one oregano plant at Food Basics and stuck in out on our patio - inside a basin to catch any rainwater. Laur said, “It’s BASIL!” A day later, I stripped it of most of the oregano’s leaves for adding to a stir-fry. Laur said, “It’s BASIL! And you don’t take all the leaves at once! You have to leave some!”
A few leaves did grow back and I left it to Laur to harvest the rest of the oregano. (It’s BASIL!) But then the rains came, and boy did they come. For two days. I forgot about the oregano and left it on the patio. Laur looked at it as we came in from GoodLife and said, “The basil is completely drowned.”
I thought he’d say something like “It’s dead, Jim!” (A quote from Star Trek.) But he doesn’t see this as being as humorous as I do. I think it’s because he knows how my mind works. In my mind, we will be gardeners in the year 2020, but because I’m so bad at it, Laur will have to take over. Like he has with the housework.
3. Plantee
This is a story I’ve told before. But my sister-in-law Colleen and I love it so.
When Laur and I moved into our apartment here at Jubilee Place, I asked the daughter of the former tenant what her plans were for the plant in the kitchen window. The gal who lived here before us was a gardener extraordinaire. She spent much of her spring and summer working on plants surrounding our patio. (They have died off under our care.)
She had no plans for the plant so I offered to care for it. I was determined that this plant – whatever it was – was going to thrive under my care. It looked a little sad, so I watered it. The next day, Plantee looked a little better, so I gave Plantee a little more water. The next day it didn’t look better, but it didn’t look worse. I gave it more water … and by the next day Plantee started to go downhill.
Oh no! I continued to water it faithfully, but Plantee went palliative… Thankfully my sister in law Colleen and her hubs Robin came over for a visit. Colleen has a green thumb. I showed her my sad plant friend and told her how I was trying to bring Plantee back to life.
Colleen looked at it, looked at me, and said, “You do realize this is a cactus, don’t you?!” More specifically it was a Christmas cactus, and without Colleen’s TLC would never have made it to Christmas. Colleen took it home, repotted it, and it’s now as happy as a Christmas Cactus that gets appropriate amounts of water.
*****
I think the natural pesticide industry ought to purchase vials of my blood. Instead of using natural pesticides with fancy names like neem, pyrethrum, rotenone, nicotine, sabadilla, and ryania - they could just mix a tablespoon of liquid Jan into a few gallons of water, and spray away.
Sadly though, it wouldn’t just be the weeds that would crumple like leaves…