I’m not a big fan of house plants. In the seventies it was ‘the thing’ and I became overwhelmed by monsteras and spider plants which I lugged from flat to flat and which threatened to take over like triffids. The only two which I still have are kept in the garage. One is an aspidistra and the other a hoya. I water them sparingly, feed them rarely and may have repotted them once in forty-odd years.
Today, the hoya scent drew my attention to the flowers it still produces. Grudgingly, I have to admit they are rather lovely, dripping with nectar.
Now house plants are fashionable again and I have seen articles about house plant competitions, prices for desirable plants going stratospheric on the internet and people stealing rare plants from the botanic gardens’ hothouse.
I do enjoy the two indoor plants a former colleague gave me. They sit on my desk and are kind of cheerful and quirky.
One of my nieces has a collection of succulents on her window sill, but I’ve never really warmed to those sorts of plants – until I bought some on impulse to put in a difficult-to-pot outdoor hanging container my brother had given me. They look rather fetching – like a living picture, perhaps.
Trouble is, they are multiplying and really need dividing and replanting. I wouldn’t bring them inside, but I’ve considered making a small rockery for them – if I can find a space.
I picture them multiplying and taking over the garden forty years from now.
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