I kill plants.
Of course, it’s not something I
enjoy doing, or even consciously do, for that matter. It’s just something I’m essentially
skilled at.
For as far back as I can remember,
we’ve had a small garden, and potted plants at home. They've boasted colourful
flowers, seasonal plants, crotons, and herbs. The odd assortment of cacti,
even. And I've loved them all. However, although my parents have been good with
gardening, I have only been good at causing their quick demise, should I take
my non-green thumb anywhere close. The usually resilient cacti have been known
to succumb to my fatal charms as well.
When I got married and moved into a
new house, my parents brought with them, a flourishing croton that had been
adorning their garden for years. HA! What were they thinking?! It lasted all of
three weeks under my loving care. Which was when my husband decided to take
over the gardening aspect in our life.
We have our own little 'garden' now, in our
first-floor apartment balcony, where potted plants stand in an untidy,
haphazard row. We have a random bunch of pretty, green stuff crowning various-sized pots, but I know it’s for him
they’ll grow. He’s the one who spends time turning the soil, adding homemade fertilizer,
and pulling out offensive weeds. Only, lately, he’s been away, leaving the presumably
panic-stricken lot at my mercy. Just pour them some water and they’ll be fine,
he tells me. Seriously?! Does he not know
me at all?
But I do that. I water them every
second morning, religiously, gingerly, praying desperately that they’re green
and still standing when he returns. I talk to them too, cajoling, pleading,
badgering, and finally threatening them to stay up and just grow, dammit, grow!
Maybe somewhere down the line, their
collective survival instinct has won over. Either that or my innate deadly
abilities have mellowed. Whatever it is, I’m beginning to notice a difference.
The plants don’t exactly flourish under my care, but they don’t book a one-way ticket
to plant heaven either. They seem to…hang in there. And I'm grateful for that
much.
But I have to admit, that as much as I love God's leafy, green creations,
there's one plant type that I favour over
all others, for the simple reason that it doesn't have me constantly appealing
to higher powers for its longevity.
And that type is, artificial.
See? Now that's what I'm
talking about!
