SEASONAL MIGRATION
Someone or something has eaten all the plant saucers. It must have happened over the summer, because I swear that I had more than enough last spring. Now, as I bring the houseplants in for the winter, I can only find a fraction of the number that I need. I must have gremlins in the cellar or demons in the garage. Either way, it’s easier to buy a fresh supply of inexpensive plastic saucers than to fix the problem by attempting some kind of exorcism. Exorcisms take time and I haven’t a moment to spare if I am going to get all the plants inside before a hard frost.
How did this happen? The saucer-eating gremlins and demons were aided and abetted by my daughter. To her credit, she has a bona fide love of plants, especially flowering varieties. Last summer she worked near Union Square and treated herself to a new plant from the Union Square Greenmarket every week. All were either tropicals or tender geraniums and they looked lovely massed on our back porch all summer. None will survive if left outside when nighttime temperatures dip below freezing.
This predicament would be much more manageable if I only had a Victorian-style conservatory or, better still, a greenhouse. However, mourning for an unrealized conservatory sounds more like an occupation for an Edward Gorey character than a way of life for a twenty-first century gardener. I have made my peace with the situation and will make do with what I have–a sunny dining room and assorted south-facing windows. Fortunately I also have lots of plant stands that I can distribute in those rooms with an abundance of light and a paucity of wide windowsills.
Of course, nothing I do will be enough for my green “children.” They will go through shock as they get used to indoor light and then proceed to sulk through the winter months. The numerous geraniums will probably send out a few feeble blossoms and the African violets might rally, but the evolvulus will save its blue flowers for next summer. The orchid cactus will use the winter to recover its strength and shed its oldest foliage, which I will dutifully pick up off the floor every three or four days. It’s possible that my daughter’s moth orchid, which she only loves when it’s blooming, will produce at least one or two blossoms this winter. Only the amaryllis, currently slumbering in the basement, will oblige me with lots of showy flowers once the plants make their reappearance in mid-winter.
With the change of season comes a change of habit. After a summer when it rained every other day and I didn’t have to touch the watering can for several months, I now have to remember to water the plants. My large jade tree will finally recover from its perpetually waterlogged state and stop smelling like it just emerged from a swamp. I have never killed my plants by over watering, because I get distracted on a regular basis and forget to do it. By the time I free myself from distraction, the soil in the various pots is usually dry to the touch, which is about right. In accordance with all the gardening guides, I don’t fertilize during the winter months. This practice also saves me from having to find the plant food, which is tucked away in the uncharted depths of the kitchen utility drawer. The overall success of this plant care method will be documented in my yet-to-be-written houseplant book, Indoor Gardening by Default. I envision it as the sequel to Gardening by Default, my still-in-the-planning-stage outdoor book.
Right now the leaves are falling outside the house, which means lots of raking lies ahead. The leaves are falling inside the house, which means the newly relocated plants are beginning the process of acclimation. During the next four weeks they will look pathetic, chlorotic and anemic, but at the end of that time they will stabilize. When December comes, I will be able to string holiday lights on my four foot-tall lemon tree without all the leaves falling off. Who knows? This year I may string lights from pot to pot to pot, just to reassure myself that daylight and the vigor of my houseplants will return.