Houseplants for me are the wildcard, my steady friends, the plants that are not living naturally their best lives and they NEED me. I’m a propagator, a horticulturist, and I find comfort in the assuredness of the lifecycle, the death and rebirth through the seasons.

If I’m addicted to anything, it’s to the regular nature, the steady rhythm, the beating drum of the growth cycle. I find closure and growth again and again. My only compulsion is this act of burying and putting things to rest. Gardeners have buried their sadness in the ground for ages, and while my life has grown exponentially more wonderful in the last decade, I still tend to harbor a melancholy that’s best left tilled silently with my sore fingers into my plants here at home. I believe that for each of us, we all have our own complicated reasons, and for many, those reasons are personal. Many have speculated that a need to nurture something is why indoor plants are so popular right now, but I’m not thoroughly convinced. Many people can identify with me, but is it a compulsion, an unhealthy obsession? Are many of us currently addicted to plants? I don’t know about others, but I do know that in part, my many plants stem from my not having been able to have children. Plants feed my curiosity, and give me pleasure. Even if I have a specimen plant, you won’t find me calling it that. My houseplants are not for show necessarily, or even for decorating my home. All of this has led me to consider what kind of balance I need, and I’m working on it.įirst and foremost I’m a plant geek with a strong sense of curiosity about the life of my plants. Another part of myself hates working so much with plants only to return home to play with more. Part of me is embarrassed by the amount of time required to care for this many tender plants.

It is daunting to consider how long it will take me to write through all of the ones that I own and care for now.

My interest in writing about houseplants diminished quite a bit after my initial post.

Amateur showoff