A home without houseplants is a soulless desert; a house is not a home without the chlorophyllic welcome of indoor plants. So why do I treat them as if they are a mere part of the interior furniture? Perhaps it’s their constancy – their unwavering slow growth gives me no reward. I am a fickle friend – give me a plant which changes, develops, rewards me with new fronds (I’m developing a bit of a frond obsession), and I will nurture it. Indoors, the poor plants suffer the ignominy of indifference - last week an orchid made a desperate suicidal leap off a cupboard, determined to end its miserable existence. No doubt to its disappointment, it survived the encounter with the floor, but with torn and crumpled leaves (although its partner in crime has an imminent bloom, but not through any help on my part).
SomeBeans has had to take on the mantle of interior horticulturalist. The maidenhair fern in question is actually now recovering.
The Bougainvillea is actually thriving...
5 comments:
There's a certain amount of disharmony in our household about the rold of Spider Plants and Easter / Christmas Cactuses on our windowsills.
Esther
Our cats ate the spider plant, thus giving me one less plant to worry about.
There's an idea!
HappyMouffe completely loses interest in a house on crossing the threshold; contractors razed knackered old shrubs, skips were hired and used, borders extended, previously gravelled areas dug (guess who did that), borders were planned and implemented - all within months of arriving at our new house. Indoors the story is very different - I offered to squander my bonus on a new kitchen this year (nearly four years after we moved in), and was met with indifference.
I have my priorities right :-D
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