A great deal is made of “rescue” pets – animals that are abandoned, get lost in a catastrophic storm, or somehow just get separated from their owners and wind up in a shelter. One of my previous blogs about pet parents notwithstanding, this is a tragic situation that often results in animal suffering. We all share concern because we hate to see that. Lost in the publicity, however, is the hapless plight of countless plants that are abandoned to nature and the elements. I know this because I’m one of the perpetrators – as the cold weather and frost descends on New England, I can only bring in so many plants before our house begins to resemble a room at the Botanical Gardens.
I will say that my wife shows considerable patience when my babies come in for the winter. I don’t usually bring in containers that have been outside because a) we only have so many windows in which I can put them and b) there may be bugs, worms, slugs, and other not-really-inside beasties that have taken up residence in the plants or the soil beneath them. Most of us don’t consider insects as house pets per se, so their invasion can be problematic. I do spray a blanket of insecticide over everything, whether it was on the screened porch or remained inside just to be safe. However, Herself does blame any semblance of bug-life on my plants, seeing a direct cause-effect. I don’t see it.
I should provide my readers with a definition of “rescue” plants. These are specific ones for whom, for one reason or another, we’ve developed an attachment. For the novice, there are two distinct categories of rescue plants.
#1. These are the plants for which there is anxiety and mild depression in any separation. We can’t let them go, sometimes despite medications and therapy. These are the ones that we bring into the house when the weather violates their delicate sensibilities. (Some folks are not aware that plants have feelings. They need to be coddled when the weather is too cold, too hot, too much sunlight or not enough water.) I usually keep these in containers so I can bring them in easily and don’t have to dig large holes in the garden.
#2. The second category involves those that we protect that remain outside. We put mulch, straw, hay, whatever it takes to protect them from the winter storms. They are, however, outdoor plants, and bringing them in would be like putting mittens on a squirrel. Included in this category are the “transitional” plants. They won’t make it through the winter, but we’re not quite ready to give them the old toss out back in the woods. So, we either cover them each night that a frost is predicted, or in my case, I put them in the garage where it’s not too cold and they won’t get the sniffles. Sometimes I throw a little decongestant into the watering can before closing the garage door. I usually do this for the first three or four predicted frosts or until the last week of October, whichever comes first. Typically, while I do feel badly that they’re outside and I’m not, once the frost gets them and they look all blackish and droopy, I can throw them out with a clear conscience.
Plants tend to hit us where we’re at our most vulnerable emotionally. If they’re still blossoming, which my roses are right now, then the arrival of cold weather provokes a deep sadness. Those that have pretty much given up the ghost and seem to know what’s coming because their leaves turn brown or yellow and shrivel up, they’re the easiest to say goodbye to until next year. The holly bushes perk up my mood because they generally look good most of the time, and their red berries lend a sparkle to the landscape. It’s also time to plant the bulbs for spring, which gives hope to the next growing season. I’m slowly moving toward daffodils because tulips give me one spectacular year, and then they only give a half-hearted attempt at foliage the next – kind of like saying, “we’re up – don’t push your luck”. I do have one yellow tulip, and only the one, that’s been coming up like a little soldier each year for about three or four years. That’s the kind of pluckiness and courage that I applaud and respect from members of the plant kingdom.
This year, in addition to my regulars, I rescued two begonias. One came from the flowerbox on the front porch and the other from a container by the back door. They have been blooming profusely in recent weeks, and I just didn’t have it in my heart to toss them because I’ve been walking by them every day, admiring their perkiness. I dug them out carefully and put them into a new container. There was, of course, space left over, so I had to make an emergency run to the nursery’s greenhouse to buy another plant to fill in. This is a very nice one with silvery leaves, and it sets off the flowers of the others nicely. Problem solved, although I am a bit over my “new plant” quota for the year. Another bit of our daughter’s inheritance gone. I don’t usually intend to buy more plants this time of year because it’s also the time to buy pumpkins and gourds and corn wrapped in orange ribbons. It is necessary, however, to purchase replacement plants for the indoor ones that have sadly let themselves go.
I was out in the garden recently to plant some poppy seeds that a wonderful friend gave me. The nice thing about these seeds is that you really just sprinkle them over the soil. They’re so small that you don’t have to dig holes for them. That’s my kind of planting. I can’t wait to see them in the spring.
So, getting back to the central premise from which I’ve long since departed, it’s high time we galvanized the forces of plant preservation. I’m thinking a national campaign, something like an “The Time Is Now – Rescue a Plant!”, “Don’t Build a Wall, Plant a Grove”, or “A Tree Used to Grow in Brooklyn. Now it’s a rotary.” This will shine a bright spotlight on plants that, unloved and neglected, will cease to bloom, will stop thrusting their leafy greens skyward, and will end up on a compost pile or covering up an asbestos dump. We need to rescue the plants that won’t survive another year without our love and help. Jump on the bandwagon, everyone. Plan a fundraiser or organize a telethon in support to annuals and fragile perennials. Write a check and send it to www.saveabegonia.org. Let’s contact FEMA and prepare to airlift delicate plants from Zones 2 and 3 to Zones 8 and 9, or away from flood zones. Together, we can make senseless plant suffering a thing of the past. Good. I’m fully engaged and onto something positive. Now I’m off to clear off the deck, put the furniture away, and throw out the. . . . . . oops.
PS from Herself:
Help, I am surrounded by plants and I live in a rain forest. If you don’t hear from me in a few days come dig through the plants and BUGS to find my body!!
PPS: She’s totally overreacting.
I'm Thinking...No! 