I derive great pleasure from my plants. My materials consist of a $1.99 pair of white cotton gloves, a paring knife, a pair of scissors, and my roommate's green hose. I’m forever buying pots: pots glazed with pale green, rough brown Indonesian pots, ordinary terra cotta pots.
“I’m gardening!” I think, balancing a Christmas cactus in one hand, a bamboo orchid cutting in the other, and holding my hip against that fuzzy cactus thing with the ruffled leaves I filched from a friend's garden in the Hollywood Hills.
I still have bromeliads from a plant I originally got 23 years ago. This bromeliad is the perfect plant. Overwater it, underwater it, neglect to repot it, it will grow "pups" which you can neatly slice off with a paring knife, or if you’re too busy to walk to the kitchen, simply twist off, stick into a pot of cut-rate potting soil, forget to water, and next thing you know it has ten pups of its own and is taking over the patio.
|FIFTH GENERATION BROMELIAD|
I feel sure children would do well under this regimen, too--though I understand you have to interact with them more often than every few days.
|BAMBOO ORCHID (PROPER NAME EPIDENDRUM)|
|ANOTHER KIND OF BROMELIAD|
|THESE LAST TWO ARE FROM CUTTINGS MY FRIEND GERRY L. |
GAVE ME FROM THE YARD OF HIS BUNGALOW IN CHINATOWN