As spring is slowly inching its way over the northwestern states, every degree increase in temperature and every sunny day fuels my Plant Mania. I used to call it Spring Fever, but after living in college dorms or apartments in the city for almost 5 years, this spring I find myself in a sort of mania for plants.
I slowly started collecting a few houseplants here and there over the late winter months, and doing so made me remember how happy plants make me. There is something about living, growing things — especially in contrast to the asphalt kingdom of cities — that appeals to the simpler hippie part of my brain.
My family always grew a huge garden. Growing up we had tomatoes, strawberries, asparagus, all kinds of lettuce and greens. There was almost always enough to preserve by canning or drying so that we had homegrown food year round. Memories of how incredible it was to walk out to the garden and pick fresh, vine ripened tomatoes and pull baby carrots out of the earth has me currently planning a container garden on my balcony.
After so long away from gardening, I feel like I’m relearning, but it’s a journey that feels real, and amid the hectic battle of my everyday life it is a grounding experience.
I’m starting with herbs. While some of them are tender, warm-loving things that I very much identify with in that respect, I figure most of them are hardy enough to put up with a reformed gardener getting back into the groove of the plant life. With any luck, the plant whispering genes that seem to run in my family will come back to me for the return to my roots.
Laughing At Myself In An Empty Room 