In the six and a half years of our relationship, Phil and I have had six plants. They have ranged from small grassy plants to gigantic peace lilies. They’ve survived for varying amounts of time, but in the end, they’ve all faced the same fate. After a few days of attentive care, they are left to die of thirst. When we realize that they are dying, we try to revive them by drowning them with copious amounts of water for a few days before we finally give up and throw them away.
Each time, I vow to keep the next plant alive, to do better. But each time, I lose track and turn around to find this:
My sad little plants…mostly dead without hope of recovery.
So, yesterday, when I came home from work, Phil was waiting eagerly at the top of the stairs. We walked to the apartment where he proudly announced, “I have a present for you!” Wrapped in a brown paper bag was this lovely little specimen:
Honestly, I have no idea what it is. He got it from a flower shop up the street from us that sells a lot of waxy-leafed plants. If you look closely, you’ll notice that there is no dirt in the vase. The plant just sits there, on top of it. The fact that it isn’t rooted in some sort of soil is a little distressing to me. It almost seems like some sort of creature…and I’m a little concerned that it’s going to try to attack my face.
But, it’s supposed to be easy to care for. To water it, you just spray it once a day. So, it seems that Phil has bough a plant that I can’t kill, “a plant with training wheels” as he put it.
We’ll see how it goes. For the plant’s sake, I hope we can keep it alive.