Green. I will admit, this has never been my favorite of the colors that make up the spectrum of the colors we can see. Purple, on most days, tends to be my favorite, because in its lightest hues it reminds me of the sweet smell of lavender, in its brightest form it is so vivid and vibrant, full of life, and then, in its darkest shade feels black, deep, affecting. A color right for me, who sometimes in a day I feel all those things, light, bright and then so very, very dark. But green, though not my favorite, shares my heart with purple because of all that it stands for-new, fresh, lush life.
In my fifty-one plus years I have tried on occasion to try to grow stuff. Houseplants that have been either bought by others or purchased by me failed to thrive, whether from lack of attention, or too much or not enough light. In my gardening tries I would start out strong, watering and wooing my precious tomatoes and herbs. Eventually one excuse would lead to another, hot nights, vacation, laziness…well, you get the point.
At one point I threw my hands up and decided I would let the professionals do the work for me and buy my produce from the markets, look at the houseplants at the nursery. I would continue to enjoy the scenery of the parks, the green grass, towering trees. Then during the pandemic, I was given my grandmother’s plant after she passed away. A Pothos plant that had long been in a beautiful, handmade planter, I took this plant home, hung it up in my kitchen window and made a vow to myself that I would not let that plant die.
For a couple of years that plant hung in that window, its green, an ever-present reminder of my grandmother and her life, and my promise that I would keep that alive. I am not going to lie, there have been close calls, but I learn and move on, making sure I do not make the same mistake twice with it. Sounds a little like life, hmmm.
Three months ago, my wife and I bought a beautiful, old home in Atchison, Kansas. Our house has these large, lovely windows that give bright light, diffused light, indirect light-a plant lover’s dream. Except that I was not yet convinced I was a plant lover because I still only had that one plant, which I hung in the dining room window. It seemed the perfect focal point for that room. The only plant, except for a tiny succulent which I know are hard to kill, even for a black thumb.
A month and a half after I moved, I went to visit my oldest daughter who has a plant addiction. Between her indoor greenhouse, bathroom greenhouse, veggie garden, and terrace plants, she could be Poison Ivy from Batman. Plants know her and trust her; she speaks to them in a way I did not know how to deal with them. Yet, I still allowed her to shove new greenery my way, in the way of plant starts. She promised me it would be easy; gave me instructions and I was on my way home to see if I too could be a plant whisperer.
I placed the plants in the bathroom windowsill, and another on the porch. I followed her directions to water them, and every day I would look at them, getting excited over the tiniest bit of growth. I had even taken a piece of grandmother’s precious Pothos and was trying to get it too root, with a vision of creating little plants to give to family members, a piece of her for them.
This new “hobby” or try to push myself to try something new, could not have come at a better time. While I love my house, I have struggled with a move to somewhere so far away from people I know. My isolation and shyness have certainly gotten the best of me, but the plants have given me goals, and have even encouraged me to look for more things to work on and try. Something to look forward to each day.
Green-we associate with envy, money, ecology. It does not tend to be anyone’s favorite, even mine, but I will continue to hold on for what it stands for in my life, fresh, lush, new life, no matter where I call home.---SMW
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