I was tearing apart cabinets looking for drinking glasses the other day with little luck. C and I split a 12-pack of wide-mouth canning jars from the grocery store last fall to use as beverage glasses/tea containers/ice cream totes (a delicious story for another post), so I knew there were six fresh glasses hiding somewhere in the petite kitchen. Side note about mason jar glasses: Yeah, they’re pretty trendy right now, but what the folks on all the hipster lifestyle blogs don’t tell you is they’re also spill-proof—even wake up in the middle of the night flailing hands around your nightstand for a cool drink of water-proof. And I have a real problem with that, thus, mason jars.
Turns out, all my glasses are being used to hold plants at the moment. A dozen paperwhite bulbs bursting to life in drink-ware of various shapes and sizes, lining all the window sills and workspaces and generally growing out of control. They’ll also be the perfect vessels for starting some spider-plant babies this spring from a mama plant I bought at the greenhouse sale in college.
At some point in the last five years, I became a crazy plant lady (because cats are dumb, but dumb cane is not). There were the college acquisitions and the night-before-graduation panic run to the florist for some sunflower relief, but the hoarding got out of control when this guy wandered into my life. He was the gateway bulb to basil and cacti and a series of succulents and potting techniques and soil types and bathtub replanting disasters.
Allow me to talk about these things like they’re children for a second here: It’s really been a learning experience, figuring out which plant needs what when. Some seem to thrive on neglect, one likes one living room window but not the other (right next to it) living room window light. I’m learning about being root-bound, like swaddling a baby, and how certain greenies like it and certain just need to be free to test their boundaries and go on road trips with their friends (teenage plant things). I still kill a lot of plants. But I’m getting better—and I’m grateful for the ones that can’t be harmed no matter how hard I try not to water them for 10 days while I’m out of the country.