Benign Neglect

Back in the dark ages of my young adulthood I had a lot of houseplants. It was the fashion of the era and it was less expensive to fill a space with plants than with furniture. The first house I owned, at age 22, was a 4500 square foot Victorian structure, circa 1875. After a couple of moves and general lack of attention from me the house plants disappeared, a slow attrition rather than deliberate discard.  A few days ago Jim and I went to one of Butchart Gardens’ evening concerts and I noticed a full display of tropical plants, houseplants to us, in the cafeteria. I could name every one of them and at some point have owned all but one.

I’ve learned that I just don’t tend to indoor plants while I pick, fertilize, and water garden plants with some enthusiasm. Although we do manage an amaryllis some Christmases we generally don’t have any houseplants. None. Except right now. My delightful Brazilian relatives were here for Christmas 2011 (why would anyone leave Rio for Victoria in December you might well ask?) and knowing our “only consumable gifts” policy they gave us a splendid orchid. I promised them it would never re-bloom under my gentle hand and we enjoyed it for at least three months. After the blooms finally fell, I occasionally watered it and one day, when it was in my way, moved it onto the kitchen window sill. And lo, unto us was born (it was a Christmas present after all), new beauty. This plant is either anxious to please or in its final death throes and trying to reproduce; and in the meantime it’s gorgeous again! Here's to benign neglect.