Who was I kidding?
It was time to admit that my mother’s green thumb had skipped a generation.
For years I faithfully read-okay skimmed, clipped out, and hoarded dozens
of how-to-garden articles and for what?
The only plants brave enough to enter my house were ones on a dare.
Deep down, I knew this, but didn’t really want to admit to it. So I tried, I really
tried. Like a regimented nurse, I dutifully watered, fertilized and de-bugged until even the dog started to bloom. Yet, one by one my little green friends dropped their leaves and hissed my name as they searched in vain for an open window to slither through; okay, the hissing part might be an exaggeration, but they did appear to be planning an escape. So, as I made a mental note of my perimeter weaknesses, I decided to call in a self-endorsed expert, my mother.
She agreed to assess my casualties, address any survivors, and salvage what she could.
I was fully prepared to answer any and all questions; soil types used, fertilizers tried-you name it. I was ready. By the time she arrived, 30 minutes later, there were but a few stems left. It was hopeless, or so I thought. With one quick assessment, the results were in-Fake It. Artificial plants. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This from the woman who prides herself on lush green house plants, beautiful blooms spilling over tall vases, and dainty little teacups filled with baby’s breath!
Plastic, fake, artificial plants have been my mother’s secret! All these years!
I didn’t believe it; that is until she pointed out how her same flowers are always in bloom and why her beautiful baskets never need replanting. My mother assured me that my road was a well traveled one, but not often recommended in today’s day and age; where have I been? Fake plants have apparently come along way since Wax Tulips were paraded about on I Love Lucy. Excuse me, silk plants, that’s the politically correct term, or so I’m told.
She claimed that all I’d have to do is dust these silk plants about once a year and they’d willingly stand tall and beautiful. The real plants that have spent their last days with me demanded everything from water and music to satellite TV! If I left them alone to even check the mail, my real plants appeared to go into cardiac arrest, uproot themselves, and threaten the children. Willing to stand tall and beautiful was obviously not on their agenda; yet, dusting only once a year was clearly on mine. I had finally reached the conclusion that there must be an after-life for plants, because mine seemed a little too eager to get there. So I admitted defeat, mother knew best; fake plants were there to save the day and my sanity.
The next morning I trekked out and searched the aisles of our local craft store and there it was…the aisle of ‘Eden’. I was floored! There was everything from sturdy proper ivy vines and swaying palm trees, to what seemed like nothing less than ‘Best in Show’ roses! Fake looking, cheap plastic plants was what I expected to find, what I didn’t expect were real looking plants that were anything but cheap! I never thought to ask how much they cost. To overcome sticker shock, I rationalized that down the road I wouldn’t need a replacement plant-these won’t leave their last will and testament, and I already have a dust rag. No more fertilizer, bug spray, classical music; a mock paradise was looking better than any withering stem collection I could come up with. So, I decided to take the plunge.
Only once I got started, I couldn’t stop! My first artificial plant, the wee little darling, in a wee little basket, looked so sweet and real, I just had to have more! Over the next few months I must really have had the neighbors talking; beautiful plants going in the house, yet no late night trips out of the house carrying pots of dirt. Sneaking deceased stems to the trash, under the cloak of darkness, was my MO. However, those days are all behind me now.
I’m proud to say that admitting horticulture defeat has been a victory gained. My artificial plants are always willing to participate in my decorating schemes; wherever I put them, they seem thrilled! Oh, and no more gardening gloves; I’ve discovered that artificial plants like to hang around outside the house too. Why, I even fooled my mother with the bright blue flowers I ‘planted’ by my front door, “I didn’t know you could grow hyacinths this time of the year?” “What these”, I said as I yanked them out of the ground.
My mother never looked so proud.
Now, I might not have the traditional green thumb, you know the one covered with dirt, peeking through a worn gardening glove, but I do have the next best thing. Now when someone asks how I manage to grow such beautiful plants, I smile sweetly and gently respond, it’s a family secret.