My husband and I have distinctly different philosophies when it comes to plants and gardening. I (the sensible one) do my gardening outside, in the ground. My husband (Mr. Elaborate) likes containers. Which can and must be moved inside when the weather turns cold.
I bet you can guess where this post is going already.
I have a few plants that make seasonal moves from indoors to out every year, but most of them are on the small side and therefore not too much trouble. I seem to have inherited my grandmother’s knack for raising African Violets and have three blooming their heads off all year round. I also rescued a Swedish Ivy from my husband back before we married and nursed it back to life, and fifteen years later it’s still thriving, which I like to point out to my husband from time to time. You know, to remind him who is the horticulturist around here. My challenge plant is a phaelenopsis orchid, which I have managed to get to rebloom three times now. And then we have a couple of peace lilies and scheffleras that came from our grandmothers’ funerals that I’m not quite ready to let die outside.
I am maxed out when it comes to houseplants. I do not wish to do anything further. As for everything else, my philosophy, it is this: stick it in the ground and if it dies then so be it.
Seriously. I’ve got enough to do without worrying over wilting plants that need watering every day. My husband thought I was being unreasonable, but if he didn’t water, I didn’t either. Hey, he’s the one who wanted to do container gardening.
My husband also thought it would be a swell idea to buy not one, not two, but FOUR palm trees this spring. They looked very nice out in his outdoor kitchen all summer, and oh how he fussed over them. And then he went out and bought a bunch of other plants to plant in pots and set all around, and while the effect was nice our water bill was sky high this summer.
And since all good things must come to an end, the warm weather is over and he’s looking at me to see what to do with the plants.
I’m sure you know what I said. Let them go.
But no. Last weekend he hauled a very tall, very heavy palm tree into the house. Literally, it is scraping my ceiling. Yet another one has taken up residence in our bedroom. He hasn’t found a place for the remaining two yet, and I’m damn sure not offering any ideas.
There are two things you get when you bring plants in for the winter: bugs and dirt. Right now I’ve got more ants and ladybugs in this house than should really be necessary. And the cats, of course, have taken to scritching around in the dirt in the pots, so I have dirt all over the floor.
If I had my way there would be none of this. This is proof that I don’t always get my way around here.