When my husband and I first married, his mother gave me several potted plants for our kitchen window. When she visited us some six months later, she took the plants home to nurse them back good health.
Everyone in the family marveled at her green thumb. As so often with any talent, her gift looked so effortless. During the time that my husband's folks lived in South Texas, his mother once received a poinsettia plant at Christmas. Afterwards, she planted it beside the house. The first Christmas I visited in their home, we made a centerpiece for the dining table with blooms from this plant that had grown taller than the house.
After they returned to Brunswick to live, whatever she stuck in the ground thrived. For years, she would cut a branch of this or a limb of that from her yard, enter it in the fair and walk away with the Best of Show ribbon.
After her death, my husband, who has inherited his mother’s love for the beauty in flowers, brought home many of her robust potted plants. They were beautiful, but my early experience of trying to nurture potted plants haunted me. I pretty much left their care to my husband. However, as they, like rabbits, have multiplied, I now tend to those showy ones on our back porch.
For several years, we’ve faithfully moved many of these plants, especially the Christmas cactus, into the house with each freeze. This year, my husband said enough is enough. If they survive, we’ll enjoy them. If they don’t, too bad.
The Christmas cactus and aloe have flourished in their home on our back porch. Even though they feel the blunt of the late afternoon sun, evidently, it’s just the right amount. Each spring, my husband repots and divides the plants. Especially the Christmas cactus, many cuttings now sharing pots with hibiscus or ivy or peppers, have bloomed profusely each winter.
I’ve gone on-line to study the care of such plants. I’ve discovered that “most blooming plants will keep their blossoms longer in cooler temperatures.” I’ve been advised to keep the plant in “a well-lit location away from drafts from heat vents, fireplaces or other sources of hot air.”
Also, I’ve learned that “watering seems to be the source of most problems with the Christmas cactus. The plant is a tropical type cactus and is not quite as drought tolerant as the name implies. However, it is a succulent plant and can store a reasonable quantity of water in the leaves. Water thoroughly when the top half of the soil in the pot feels dry to the touch. Discard the excess water, then do not water again until the top half becomes dry. The length of time between waterings will vary with the air temperature, amount of light, rate of growth and relative humidity.” And, they do need sunlight.
However, I don’t think it’s my newly found knowledge that has caused this plant to procreate and bless so many. Rather, whenever my husband repots the plants, he gives away many starters. I’ve come to the conclusion that is the real secret to a green thumb, or to any other talent for that matter: generously sharing the bounty with others.
On Mother's Day, we pay tribute to our mothers, many of whom were gardeners in their own right and many of whom were blessed with other gifts. But, on this special day we are reminded to express gratitude for the one gift each of our mothers gave all of us: the gift of life. No matter how complex our relationships may be, it’s really so simple. Without our mothers, we would not be alive to make the discoveries we have.
Perhaps, Phyllis Theroux, U.S. journalist, in “On Being Fair,” from Night Lights: Bedtime Stories for Parents in the Dark, captures the essence of motherhood at its best. “Rearing three children is like growing a cactus, a gardenia, and a tubful of impatiens. Each needs varying amounts of water, sunlight and pruning. Were I to be absolutely fair, I would have to treat each child as if he or she were absolutely identical to the other siblings, and there would be no profit for anyone in that.”
Happy Mother’s Day.
2007
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