Honey, The Plants Are Home

They’re baaaaaack.  I don’t know if this happens where you work, but at my job, co-workers are carrying out their potted plants to return them to the yard after a winter in office exile.  For me,  it means loading up crates, cleaning the office, and hoping that the plants will reacclimate themselves to outside living.  Right now, they all look pale and sparse and leggy — sort of like me after a long winter’s night.

This is the geranium I grew from seed several years ago. It is now sitting in the backyard, getting ready for summer blooms.

The question, though, remains.  Why do northern gardeners go to such great lengths to save their plants?  For some, it might be the value of the plant, or the challenge of being able to cheat cold temperatures of their delicate herbaceous victims.  For me, it’s more about the story behind the plants that I save each year.  So here is a piece of my story, as told by my plants.

First, there’s the philodendron which I have had since I was a pre-adolescent!  This plant actually came from a cutting  from a plant that my mother had in the kitchen of my childhood home.  I think I had decided at some point that I wanted a plant in my bedroom.  I thought it was pretty cool that I could take a piece of this plant, place it in a cup of water, and then watch the roots grow.  Since then, the plant has traveled with me from my parents’ house to the current home I share with Joe to my office and to the backyard.  We’ve been through so much together, it seems kind of cruel to leave it outside at the end of the growing season.  Continue reading