Genuinely Fake

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!