Winter is coming; the days are getting shorter and my four grow lamps are blasting my plants with ultraviolet light all day long while I’m out in the chilly weather. Since I can’t have a pet in my dorm, my love for houseplants has grown out of that void and buoyed my spirits through the darker months. You don’t have to have a green thumb to enjoy green things; in fact, you can have a talent for killing everything you touch. I’m here to tell you that you still can — and should — get a houseplant.
Normally, I’m not one to be holed up in my dorm, but there’s something comforting about returning to my jungle of a room at the end of the day. The urge to become a hermit has been increasingly harder to resist. Even when I’m staying up late writing a paper, I am overwhelmed by the sense that I am surrounded by life, that I am not alone. Sometimes, in the morning, I’ll find tiny dewdrops on the leaves of my alocasias and pothos. It’s such a small thing, but it brings me back to the reality that life will persist, even when — especially when — the world turns dark and dull.
When I need a break from staring at my computer screen, I look over at my jade plant that I got from the botanical gardens as a first-year. I’ve potted the little tree in a loose-leaf tea container that I emptied out and poked holes in. Without even trying, she (the plant, that is — I named her “Jadis” after the White Witch from C.S. Lewis’ The Chronicles of Narnia) looks so regal in her little orange tin. Not that I have favorites (I do) among my plants, but Jadis is very special to me. When I first got her, I was both determined to keep her alive and terrified of killing her. After a year in my care, she continues to thrive, and I now see her as a symbol of my ongoing journey here at Smith; we grow — and suffer — together.
There is an obvious aesthetic appeal to having houseplants, but I think it goes far beyond the pretty (but kind of sad) monstera plant brightening up the corner of your dentist’s office. I love big, leafy, majestic plants; they’re gorgeous. As much as I would love for all my plants to adhere to the carefully curated picture of aesthetic bliss I like to imagine for my humble living space, believe it or not, the plants don’t actually care about my “aesthetic.” Their primary concern is staying alive. They will bend at a 45-degree angle to reach the light; they will shed their dying leaves; they will grow long and spindly and cascade over my bookshelves. But they don’t give me a hard time about the stack of dirty dishes I have yet to deal with, so I respect their right to live however they see fit.
In an Instagram post from September, Humans of New York, a popular street portrait blog, quoted a New Yorker who told the interviewer:
Get a plant and name it after yourself. I tell that to everyone, especially if they have trouble with self-love. Take care of your plant everyday. Water it, make it beautiful. If your plant is growing and nourishing, that means you’re growing and nourishing.
To be fully transparent, I don’t have a plant named after myself. I’m convinced that linking a plant to my anxious and over-caffeinated self in this manner would result in its prompt demise. But consider how houseplants might play a role in the practice of self-care.
Apparently, some plants purify the air. I like that idea, but I don’t know the science behind it. I do get the sense, though, that my plants and I are simultaneously benefitting from each other’s presence. I take care of them, and they make me feel proud that I am doing something nurturing and constructive with my life. They get to photosynthesize from the grow lamps I bought for them, and I like to think that their rays of light somehow penetrate the dark shell of seasonal depression that so often surrounds me. Maybe they purify the air, too, but regardless, there is definitely some sort of symbiotic relationship going on.
But who am I kidding, the real reason I keep houseplants is so I can don my “proud plant parent” socks in keeping with high millennial fashion and fondly refer to my plants as my “children.” In the age of overpopulation and global disaster, we must embrace modern notions of parenthood. Are you “Pro-Life”? Don’t have kids, just have plants! Besides, nobody is going to want to have sex with you if your room is overflowing with cellulose and chlorophyll.
Perhaps the most wonderful thing about houseplants is that they’re much cheaper than children. Consider adopting the laissez-faire approach: stroll into Home Depot with a pair of scissors and a plastic sandwich bag. Make your way over to the giant pothos or transcendia vine, and snip where you see fit. Slip the cutting into your baggie, and be on your merry way. If you feel guilty about this undeserved mutilation, don’t. The vine will grow back, and the plant won’t miss the little cluster of leaves you borrowed. Remind yourself: you just created a whole new life, one that will hopefully brighten up your own.
