Green Thumb Mystique

I have killed a lot of plants over the years.

We revere or envy the gifted gardener, giving them the title of Green Thumb. A failure or two, and we dub ourselves Black Thumbs, expecting to impart the kiss of death on anything we try to grow.

Truth told, every experienced, successful gardener has composted his or her share of plants.

Houseplants are the most personal. We bring these plants into our home, away from any sustenance that would normally be provided by nature, like rain or sun. When they fail to thrive, it’s pretty much our fault. 

The number one killer of houseplants is overwatering. I know this. I do my best to educate others.

Yet I would admit that any houseplant that has died at my hands has been caused by poor watering practices.

Rarely do I overwater, but occasionally it has happened to those beautiful blooming holiday plants like poinsettias or mums. Thirsty and pot-bound, frequent wilting prompts a pre-emptive water-when-you-see-it mentality. Unfortunately, one of the symptoms of root rot from excess water is wilting. If I forget to check, I add more water to a drowning plant, and it’s soon headed to the compost pile.

Under-watering is an overcompensation, but equally deadly. And my kill-list is an embarrassing list of plants that are well-known to be virtually indestructible.

Cast Iron plant is typically well-named. Aspidistra elatior earned its common name for a tough constitution that was able to withstand the cold, toxic air of Victorian homes polluted with the fumes from coal heat and gas lighting. Mine recovered several times from severe wilting, but eventually succumbed.

Mother-in-law’s tongue or Snake Plant, aka Sansevieria, has an iron constitution and a reputation to match. I have a plant that was at least 10 years old when it came under my care. This plant is a survivor. When Marty’s mom, Fran died in 1977, dad put the plant in the basement. Months later, Marty found the plant and started to care for the plant. This particular mother in law’s tongue has grown and thrived for another 30 years since I have been its care giver.

But I have also killed some. I found a bargain on a compact Sansevieria variety called Birds’ Nest, which grows in a tidy, compact rosette of leaves. I bought several and placed them under fluorescent lights in the basement, planning to propagate them and sell at a garden club plant sale or farmer’s market. Despite their reputation for thriving on neglect, these plants, to the contrary, died from it.

I’ve actually killed more so-called indestructible plants than the more fragile ones. These plants have such a reputation for being able to take care of themselves that I sometimes don’t take care of them at all.

I don’t feel quite as personally responsible when a plant fails in the landscape. These plants receive nature’s care from the wind, sun and rain, and are also subject to the perils of insects, disease and hungry, browsing wildlife.

Of course, sometimes failure is entirely my fault.

I put a plant where I’d like to see it, out of the reach of the garden hose and easily forgotten. Or I tuck a very small starter plant into an established planting, and it gets crowded out before it has a chance. And I push the limits, putting a moisture-loving plant in a dry spot, a sun-lover in the shade, and believe the advertisement that says that THIS variety of tropical plant is hardy in Michigan. Occasionally these experiments take, and I enjoy bragging rights. Occasionally.

A Green Thumb has lots of lush, beautiful plants. If one fails or falters, we learn from our mistakes and replace it with something new. When someone compliments us on our abundant gardens, we smile wisely and do not mention the skeletons in the compost pile.