Bring on the snake plant!

My mother had a mighty green thumb. In our family room, there was an East-facing, mullioned, bay window. There were small house plants in each of the mullions, and three-level staging beneath the window where she had her larger plants. 

She even rigged up a hose from the kitchen sink so that she didn't have to go back and forth, a trip that entailed going up and down a half-flight of steps, on repeat trips with the watering can. 

After her retirement, she spent multi-week time away visiting a friend in Florida and family in Arizona. When she was away for extended periods, she had a friend look in on her plants and water them for her.

What plants did my mother have? Sansevieria. Pothos. Philodendron. Spider plants. Orchids. Dieffenbachia. Pink polka dot plant. Cactus. Lots and lots of plants. Lots of them. And a Christmas cactus that lived for-almost-ever. (My sister Kath inherited it and kept it going for another decade or so.)

There may have been a couple of plants in the living room. And as kids, my sister and I each had a small cactus on the knick-knack shelves in our bedroom. But the prime plant location was the family room. (The family room was an extension to the main house - a typical 50's ranch style house - that was added a couple of years after we moved there from my grandmother's triple decker, which was on the next block. The extension had begun life as a large, screened-in porch, but when my sister Trish arrived on the scene, it was winterized. Decades after the porch was winterized and turned into a family room, a combo of TV-watching spot, hang out space, and dining room, everyone still called in The Porch.)

My mother also had flowers in the yard, but she was at her plant-lady peak with houseplants.

As a plant lady, I am not my mother's daughter. I'm not an immediate plant-killer, but I don't have great luck or a deft hand, either.`

I do have a peace lily, inherited from my sister Kath when she started spending winters in Arizona that always seems to be near death but manages to survive. There were originally three peace lilies. One was adopted by a friend of my niece Molly. (I'll have to ask M if Julia still has it.) The third sister peace lily is long gone from natural causes, if overwatering can be considered a natural cause. And I am always nervous that the survivor is going to kick the bucket, and I will have to inform my sister (real sister, not plant sister) of its demise.

On a more positive note, I generally have good luck with pointsettias. They often stay with me from Christmas well into spring.

Then there's this year's grocery-store St. Patrick's Day shamrock, which is still kicking it. 

I also do pussy willows, Japanese lanterns, hydrangeas, and other dried flowers/plants. (I wish that bittersweet weren't outlawed as an invader. The fake version I found online just doesn't cut it.) Occasionally I get flowers at Trader Joe's. 

I do want to try my hand with a sansevieria, which I think would look fab in my fireplace. 

Mostly, though, even though I do have a greenhouse kitchen, and much as I'd like to be more of a plant lady, I just don't have the knack

 my mother did. 

Just as well.

Houseplants are calming, everyone knows that. But as some people also come to learn — perhaps after frantically scouring their entire collection, one by one, through a magnifying lens, certain they saw a pest — plants can do a number on your psyche. 

Weslie Pierre technically the founder of Wesleaf Designs and Decor, but actually a plant therapist, or a therapist for people with plants, put it plainly: Plants can make people get emotional, she said, drawing out her words. “Super … duper … emotional.” (Source: Boston Globe)

Plants fill emotional needs. I get that. But plants also cause anxiety? I. Just. Knew. It.

Indoor plant sales have been booming (blooming?) since the pandemic. That's when people hunkered down and, in the absence of someone to care for, settled for something to care for. 

Come to think of it, this may be what happened with my mother. After my father died, her plant life started to take off, and by the time the last kid was out of the house, the dog was gone, she was all in on plants. 

When it comes to plants, I'm not lookin' for love. Which may be why I'm attracted to sansevieria, a.k.a., a snake plant. 

“The snake plant thrives on neglect,” [Pierre] said. “It wants to be left alone. Don’t pray for it. Don’t come to it as a woman. It does not care.”

"Come at is as a woman"? Yikes! I can't imagine myself coming at a pet as a woman, let alone a plant. ("Hey, big guy. What're you doing later? ")

But now that I know that I probably can't kill it, bring on the snake plant.