If I pass a poor on-its-way out retail store plant (or one that miraculously is still in relatively good condition, or new off the delivery truck) that happens to be a personal favorite, I simply cannot leave it to die a slow and lingering death in its too dark/too bright/over-watered/under-watered location. Better that it comes home with me and I make an attempt to save it. Being able to actually keep it alive for many, many times longer than it would otherwise have managed is another matter entirely, but certainly it's the thought and the effort made that count.
It could be worse. I don't bring home every such plant I see; for one thing, caring for the orphans would become a full-time job—at least three stores I regularly visit have what they call houseplant "departments". (If I had the time and the money to try, it is conceivable that I could possibly, eventually, make such a lack of willpower pay somehow.) I try not to rescue plants I know nothing about, or those whose like I have killed in the past. That was a hard lesson to learn, but I just passed up—for the second time!—Alocasias still in decent shape, even though I now know where to find growing tips for keeping them alive outside of a greenhouse. Of course, I was more able to resist their lure because I already had this…
…in the truck from an earlier stop. * sigh * I would happen to notice the sale sign. And then stop to look over the offerings more closely only to find this specimen smack in the middle of the store, pining away. Look closely—new leaves turning yellow. Oh, the horror. Such spirit must be succored! Never mind that other Philodendron selloum I rescued earlier in the summer…
Speaking of this awful trend towards collecting monstrous plants (thinking it's ok because I think I know where to keep them all for the winter—and believing, perhaps erroneously, that I will be able to actually find a place to set myself down on even the large deck next summer when they all go outside again, assuming they all survive the winter) in addition to rooting two cuttings from the lanky, neglected Monstera baby I've had for years, I succeeded in making a brand new one! Just add water and…
Presto! Well, she's not quite there yet, but a leaf sprout, two leaf buds, an actual root and a root bud is a far cry from the long, leafless stem I had pruned off the Baby M. Having past experience sticking pothos stems in water, and being continuously amazed at a plant's ability to regenerate itself from very little, I had a hunch I could force some growth on this bit. (I have since trimmed off that yellow bottom section; it is no longer living tissue.) When there is more root and leaf, this new plant will go to help fill in the pot with the other two rooted cuttings. That will technically be only three Monsteras, two of which are still relatively small. Especially compared to Big Momma (no relation), who is by this time completely out of control (I might need to propagate a few of her stems next) but providing such a lovely background for these photos…
Baby Monster itself is thriving spending its first summer outside, as evidenced by lovely (if the slightest bit sunburned) new leaves and hordes of aerial roots, most now sunk back into the soil of its pot. (I wasn't paying attention as the heat wave went on and on and on and the mosquitoes finally descended en masse: at least one of Big Momma's aerial roots dug into a pot that wasn't hers…) And lookee---
Baby's first split leaf!!! I'm so proud.
In early August, I (some would say unwisely) took a stroll through the Big K's outdoor section to see what plant inventory remained and was still managing to hang on. I, as you might say, hit pay dirt. A half price Mandevilla (that I haven't yet wrapped around a trellis as I promised, but that the goldfinches haven't yet found—they inexplicably tore all of the flowers off the last mandevilla I had some years ago), a half-price hibiscus (which I didn't need at all given that it’s identical to one I picked up last year; but last year's is still recovering from a rough winter and has yet to bloom, so there!), and little potted houseplants for only a dollar each. The wandering jews had wandered so well that I think one of the two I picked up originally started in a different pot altogether…
Looking even better after a few weeks of consistent and constant watering. (Going to be some unhappy stems on this plant: in taking this photo I took them out of the water-filled saucer they were rooting themselves in…) By some miracle, a few bird's nest and rabbit's foot ferns were also still alive, even in full, glaring, summer sun. The rabbit's foot was shorter and denser than any I've ever seen (but has since grown taller), and amazingly only a few leaves on the bird's nests were sunburned… I'll take two each, thank you very much.
Ooh, nice big new leaves! What a happy plant. While pondering how to keep somewhat specialty ferns alive in a dry house over the winter, I finally hit upon an obvious solution.
Self-watering pots are not just for African violets! I had some success with those plants a few years back (even to the point of getting a mess of babies from a leaf stuck in soil—talk about a plant's truly remarkable ability to regenerate!) but neglect took its toll and I have had a handful of these pots about the house collecting dust for the past few years. (Some of my best African violets were actually growing in glass votive candle holders, anyway.)
Voilá! The fittonia (a plant acquired against my own rule of "don't buy it if you don't know what it is or how to grow it"—I still have a ways to go kicking this habit), who had wilted flat on me at least three times over the winter and once when out on the hot deck this summer, loves having its feet constantly wet…
Now if I can just forget about that really tall, quite stunning Draceana marginata tricolor I saw last week at the supermarket (on sale, of course). It was an older plant and might even have been tall enough (and thick-stemmed enough) to escape grazing cats...
