Who befriends a houseplant? A year ago I would have said nuts smoking too many weeds.
Botanical relationships had never made my top ten. Didn’t people whose confidants were from the flora kingdom lack in their ability to take criticism, make jokes and give small favors? When was the last time a plant made me stop and think?
I remember marveling at a Golden Pothos (Devil’s Ivy) in my son’s speech therapist’s office. Her walls were filled with art, photos and vines that grew so long she tacked them up so you were surrounded with swirling green. It was original, funky and screamed, “I value life and substance over snipping off limbs for superficial reasons!” Good enough for me.
The first thing I did when I got home from NYC was run to each of my potted pets to see if they made it all week without me. They weren’t perfectly happy, but with a little water, pleasant conversation, and some music, they’d perk right back up.
There is scientific evidence to support the theory that plants respond positively to sound. I only talk to my cat because she talks back, but, once you start loving something, you're willing to try anything, right?
“Fern, baby, lookin’ good! A little Springsteen for you?”
I am not completely mad. I only ask rhetorical questions. Fern is from New Jersey.
No comments:
Post a Comment