I’ve always had a green thumb. And I really like to grow things. I love having pots of flowers sitting around outside and in. I was just outside re-potting a tropical flower that I “liberated” from a vacant house’s carport and it got me to thinking about all the plants that I have and where some of them came from.
The oldest one I have; and you’ll have to forgive me because I don’t know the names of many of them, was a short little tree looking thing that I got while I was stationed in Texas in the Air Force. So yes, I’ve had this one for over 30 years. I have moved this thing a million times. It’s gotten broken, bruised, tipped over, and generally man-handled in all those years and yet still looks great. Probably because I don’t baby many of my plants. I have three African Violets that my son gave me for my birthday many many years ago, and they are the only ones that I pay any special attention to. But I’ve gone through some seriously strange phases in regards to plants. As in:
The “absconded with” phase. Like I said, I have that tree looking plant. Have had it since my Air Force days. But how I got it wasn’t exactly kosher. It was on the patio of a house in base housing. It looked like people were going to throw it out. It was sitting by their garbage can. Of course the right thing to do would have been to go to the people’s door and knock and ask if I could have it. I confess I didn’t. I just kinda walked off with it. Bad Cinnamon ! But that’s nothing compared to what a guy that I was dating while I lived in Knoxville did.
We both worked for Wendy’s. Were both managers. I didn’t really want anything to do with him after the first date, but he was smitten. Remember when Wendy’s had all those hanging baskets in the restaurants? Well this guy knew I liked plants. One morning, I walked out my front door of my townhouse and there were 25 large hanging baskets sitting on my patio. He had gone to a couple of the stores and took their plants and brought them to my house as a gift in the middle of the night. He said he was drunk. Once again, I should have taken them back, or at least found a way to report him, but I didn’t. Hey, they looked great on my patio. Bad Cinnamon again.
The graveyard phase: This is a really weird one. While living in North Carolina with my ex-husband, I got obsessed with planting tulip bulbs and all kinds of perennials. The trouble was that I was going to have to wait until the next year to see the results of all my hard work. I made my husband go and drag those huge railroad ties back to the house from an abandoned pile of them up the road. I made flower beds, and hauled in dirt and it looked great except for the fact that there weren’t any flowers in them yet. One day I happened to be following a pick up truck that was loaded down with flowers past the front entrance to a cemetery. This guy had real ones and artificial ones. What do you know, an idea popped into my over-fertile mind. I watched where he went and after he had gone I went there myself. It was the maintenance area of the cemetery where they kept the backhoe and lawn equipment etc. It was also where they disposed of all the flowers that people sent to the dearly departed. You’ve seen the fresh graves with all the flowers on them. Where do you think they end up? Yep. On a burn heap. There were some really nice potted flowers and plants that I didn’t want to see destroyed, so you guessed it, I took em. I also took a few artificial ones to intersperse with the live ones. Let me tell you. By the time I was done re-planting those flowers and sticking the artificial ones in the ground too, it looked like I had an awesome flower bed. This of course was not a one time thing with me. I went back lots of time. I’d swap out the artificial flowers when the sun had faded them some so that my garden always looked nice. And unlike some folks, I was smart enough to take them up in the winter because it does look just a little strange to see full bloom flowers with snow on them. We must keep it REAL ! LOL I also call this my Redneck phase.
The collection phase: When my ex-husband’s Mom died, I inherited all of her houseplants. And she had quite a few. Some have died over the years, but I still have most of them. And I’ve taken them with me everywhere I’ve moved. I loved that woman and her plants let me think about her when I tend them. I have plants from my Dad’s funeral as well as my own Mom’s. These are my most precious plants, along with those African Violets.
Seems like anything that you think about long enough will evoke a memory, or in my case, a blog.