My "Other" Family

Okay, I have to admit it. Sometimes I can be a funny duck. Funny like .... strange. 

Having multiple chemical sensitivities, I enjoy the company of house plants: they clean the toxins from the air and give back oxygen in return, and they're pretty! 

I got away from having plants at home unless they were up high where the cats couldn't reach them; so many house plants are poisonous to cats and dogs, and even if I could find one that wasn't, I was not fond of the idea of having it destroyed by a furry buddy with a vine-chewing fetish. So at home, I only have a couple of plants, set up where the four-legged kind can't reach: a hoya plant which I raised from a cutting, and an umbrella plant that I got on sale for a buck fifty at Wal-Mart. 

But at work - where there are no four-legged critters - I've amassed quite a family. Most of them I have inherited from other people who were willing to give them to me. One came from Wal-Mart, and grew from just a little shaver into a bushy fella I've taken cuttings from to give to others.  Another came from a plant that I bought in a flower shop and which grew so big I had to divide it and give three-quarters of it away. 

Helen sitting and rooting between the spider-twins.
Yes, each plant has its own label on my shelf.
I'm just that quirky.

I have the twins, Anson and Anna, children of the now-deceased Queen Anne (a huge spider plant). There is Nigel, a robust and friendly English Ivy I bought at Wal-Mart three years ago or so; he kept hugging every other plant set beside him, so I had to keep him by himself until he learned to behave. Now he's better, so as of Thursday past, he has a new companion, a lovely philodendron I have named Philomena, given to me by a friend who was leaving the building to go to a different job. That same friend allowed me to have a cutting he was growing of a baby rubber plant. Since I'm a great Pixar fan and I'm fond of their latest superhero movie, "The Incredibles" - I named this one Helen, after Helen Parr, the secret identity of "Elastigirl". She sits between the spider-twins at the moment and keeps them company, concentrating on growing roots in a big Santa-Claus mug. 

Serena, next to the pot which will be Helen's home.
(My neighbor's peace lily is in the background.)
The only critter I let near my plant family is Tigger,
a crocheted critter made for me by
my friend Dorothy, whose e-store
is at http://dorothyscritters.ecrater.com/

And finally, I have Ireney, the Peace Lily. She is the other of the plants that I purchased (Serena) who got so big that she needed to be divided. I gave the other three plants to good homes. She's higher-maintenance than the others, but every so often she gives me a treat: a lovely white blossom that graces my cubicle for a couple of weeks.

And yes, if you haven't already guessed by now, I name my plants... which is why I said that I'm a funny duck. 

Of course they're like family to me. They brighten my work space, clean my air, and help me remember that there is a world outside the four walls of both my cubicle and the building in which I work. They remind me of the people that gave them to me. They help me remember that differences make life interesting. And they have opened quite a few conversations ... just by being there.

I guess that's the main reason I keep potted plants: as an object lesson to me that one doesn't have to grunt and strain and strive in order to grow; one just IS. With proper care, the growth will look after itself.  In some ways, plants are self-sufficient: they send out roots and they make chlorophyll out of light, a process that boggles my mind. However, these indoor plants are also completely dependent on the water and the care that I provide. Without me, in a very real sense, they can do nothing. I need to be reminded that while it is all well and good for folks to be self-sufficient and pull their own weight, everyone is dependent on others to provide a safe place to grow and thrive. 

We all need each other, whether we want to admit it or not. 

Philomena settling in. You can just see Nigel
peeking over the top of my cubicle to her right.

 

Boy it's HOT!!

Don't get me wrong - I love the heat. One of my favorite places is curled up next to a fireplace on a cold winter's night. But summer - I hate to complain because it happens for such a short time in our part of the country.

I love the warm temperatures. It's the humidity and the bugs that annoy me.

I could spend a lot of time complaining about the weather, the climate, the economy, the construction that never happens except when the population triples during tourist season and people are already stressed to the max because crazy Uncle Max has decided to descend on the family (no I don't have an uncle called Max and I don't know anyone who does...) and the kids are more and more bored: "There's nothing to do!!" - so their idea of fun is going to a mall and spending our hard-earned money.

I could even spend a lot of time complaining any other time of year. In the winter it's the cold and wind. In the spring it's the wet and the muck. In the fall it's - well, it's that winter is right around the corner and autumn lasts an even shorter time than summer does.

But I can turn this whole thought process on its ear and look for the praiseworthy things. It's something I'm training myself to do.

In the summertime, the sun is nice and hot, the vitamin D is plenteous, I get to go on vacation, and I'm not encumbered with heavy coats, caps, scarves and gloves when I have to buckle myself in the car.

In the fall, - well - what's not to like about the fall? Beautiful colors, not as much lawn-mowing, the extra expenses of the summer (air conditioner, electricity, eating out because it's too hot to cook) are gone, and the neighborhood kids are back in school and not setting firecrackers off in the middle of the night.

In the winter - hallelujah, NO BUGS! The driving isn't all that bad - even the potholes are filled in with the snow and ice. And since winter lasts such a long time here, the crime rate is lower than in most places - criminals don't like the cold either.

In the spring, there is hope for warmer temperatures. The trees and crocus are the bravest souls - they bud long before I would venture out. The days are getting longer - spirits are up. The birds are coming back - one of my favorite sounds is the cooing of mourning doves early in the morning... that or the twittering of the sparrows in the hedge.

It's been said that attitude determines altitude.
I like that.