There’s this thing between me and plants. I’m not sure what to call it, I guess uneasy truce would describe it. Sort of. When any plant happens to fall under my ‘care’, it’s like an immediate telepathic exchange:
Me: Ummmm
Plant: Help!
In my defense, although I was raised on a farm with immense gardens of vegetables, where there were also plenty of beautiful flowers and plants outside all along the verandah, the key word here is OUTSIDE; nature was their caretaker, and she did a wonderful job of it. Occasionally inside the house would be cut blooms, for which no special attention was required, mostly trilliums and violets that we kids would present to our foster parent on Mother’s Day. As for the gardens, well, I was young, so did what I was told to do. The planting, weeding, spraying was directed by someone who had a plan, and I never really paid much attention to the why or wherefore.
I knew before Karen moved in downstairs that she was an avid gardener and a plant aficionado. I certainly enjoy the fruits of her labour; the fresh veggies, the herbs, and the way the flowers and plants installed along the gallery brightened up the exterior of the house. I’ve mentioned in a previous blog how these were moved into the living room in late fall. I’ve also mentioned that they suddenly became my responsibility when Karen was called away for a while. Maybe I also hinted that they had been not looking so good?
Although I give them water once a week (whether they need it or not?) it seemed to me they were frowning (telepathically, of course) whenever I entered that room. I remembered reading somewhere that plants enjoy music, it makes them happy, so I decided to try it out. I fiddled with the TV in there until I could get the Stingray channels, then made my choice. Classical, I thought, that sounds about right. And classical it was. Whether it was the music or because I had watered them too, the next morning I imagined they looked better. Well, at least it didn’t feel like they were frowning. But there was a problem.
Between my bedroom and the living room is a double faced fireplace with vents, so I, TOO, heard the music. All night. I don’t mind classical tunes, but all night, every night? Now it was me who was frowning. By the 3rd evening I was fed up, so much so that I knew I had to change it. Rock? Maybe a bit much? After some consideration I decided to go with the Folk Roots channel. Happy medium.
You know what? I think it’s working! They look happier, and I’m not grinding my teeth to the continual sound of Bach. I’ll give it to the end of the week and, if I’m right, I’ll send Karen a photo. I’m sure it will make her SMILE.
With all the snow most of you folks have been getting, I’m hoping that this post about plants will make you SMILE too!
LUV FROM THE BUSH IN QUEBEC
Tales from the Bush in Quebec 