How many of you out there have a green thumb? If you’re blessed with the ability to nurture plants, I’m a bit envious. My thumb could best be called “olive.” Mother Nature I am not, but I can coax the flora to thrive when needed. Currently I am taking care of three small houseplants, in addition to an exuberant basil plant — quite a “bounty” for me — but I’ve been considering the idea of adopting a few more members from the kingdom Plantae. I just want to make sure that the combination of my average plant-keeping skills along with the behavior of a highly inquisitive resident feline won’t spell certain doom for any future adoptees.
In this age of instant information, I could do a Google search about easy-to-grow houseplants — and then be faced with a gazillion different search results. Or, I could check the shelves at my local library and find one source to fit my needs. Aha! Right there on the “new book” shelf did I spy a bright orange spine with the uncompromising title “The Indestructible Houseplant.”
Before pulling it off the shelf, I did have the following stray thought: this title could be interpreted in a couple of different ways. It might be referencing an apocalyptic-themed future in which a seemingly innocuous houseplant takes over homes, terrorizing anyone owning a watering can. Or, it could be a reassuring guide for indoor gardeners who can’t help overwatering green, leafy family members, unwittingly sending healthy, happy plants to early graves. Thank goodness it turned out to be the second scenario — the “reassuring guide” — because, heaven knows, the world doesn’t need psychotic philodendrons joining forces with those already troublesome zombies.
But I digress.
Turning the orange-spined book around to its back cover, I experienced an instant boost of confidence upon reading this assertive proclamation: “Hundreds of houseplants you can’t kill!” Well, if that doesn’t propel an olive-thumbed plant-keeper to horticulture stardom, I don’t know what will. I was also pleased to discover that many of the plants included in the book’s “gallery of indestructibles” were familiar to me. African violets, ferns, geraniums, schefflera, spider plants — I have had occasion to know these stout specimens. Even the polka dot plant has made my acquaintance, having existed successfully in my bedroom during my young adult years. Perhaps, I mused to myself, I can welcome a bromeliad or a nerve plant to the Johnston abode. Certain bromeliads known as air plants don’t even need soil, so how brilliantly low-maintenance is that? And nerve plants, also known as mosaic plants, rattlesnake plants, and silver net plants, are, according to the author, kind of “freaky” indestructibles, but well worth the investment with their ability to thrive in low light (hello, Northwest winters!), and a “turn-the-other-cheek” tolerance to things like curious cats. Apparently the author’s cat, Einstein, feels compelled to discipline anything that dangles — as is the nerve plant’s tendency — yet Fittonia (the nerve plant’s melodious-sounding Latin name) bats nary a pink or white-streaked leaf at such roughness. Now that’s a plant worth the love of any cat-owning gardener.
