HUMOUR:

Coming from a long line of green thumbs is no guarantee that caring for an indoor plant will be easy.

Amanda Blair goes potty over plants

It was supposed to relax me, make the environment more calm and peaceful. Sadly, it’s had the opposite effect and I’m more anxious and unsure than ever. I was told that it’s low maintenance, just to keep an eye on it and let the environment do the rest. Well, my environment must be toxic because I’m finding it almost impossible to keep my one indoor plant, my “easy-to-manage” FiddleLeaf fig alive. The indoor plant that’s been the green piece for many a renovation show is failing me.

I didn’t think growing things would be difficult, all my friends do it successfully and to be honest, some aren’t the sharpest tools in the garden shed. They have houses filled with CO2 chompers and gardens that bear all types of fruits and vegetables which they gloatingly deliver to my front door because they have “sooo much … it’s impossible to use all this healthy, organic, home-grown produce”. My friend Allan brings giant bowls of squash throughout squash season.

Yes, who can believe there’s a season for the world’s most boring vegetable? Another smug friend delights in providing hand-picked blooms “because I have sooo many, it’s like the Chelsea Flower Show in my backyard”. I shouldn’t be ungrateful, the sentiment is lovely, but I’m jealous because I can’t keep one stingy, non-productive plant alive.

It’s not for want of trying – I’ve put serious time into this, taking advice from people with soil under their nails and logging onto horticulture websites looking for tips. My plant has done the rotation of the compass searching for the best light and my eyes start watering when I think about the hours I’ve spent working out its watering requirements. Do I water it monthly, weekly, daily, or soak it outside in a tub from the roots up like my Greek neighbour suggested? I’ve talked to my plant because I read the vibrations are healthy. But what to discuss? Are plants interested in news, weather, politics, or pop culture? I got so nervous trying to please the plant it felt like some weird first date. My chatter didn’t help, the plant still flopped, dropped leaves, looked thirsty and generally unwell. I was a failure, so I called Mum for a pep talk.

She said to just trust myself, tap into my family history. Coming from a long line of green thumbs, she said I should just “know” what to do. During my childhood Mum spent all her time in her garden, working out early on that proteas were nicer than progeny. Every spare inch of our home was filled with something living and I have memories of Maidenhair Ferns so large going to the bathroom felt like venturing into the Amazon. The scent that reminds me most of my childhood is blood and bone – it’s no wonder my friends were reluctant to come and play. I pointed out if I knew what to do I wouldn’t be calling her. She said I only call when I want something. I said if she’d taught me properly in the first place I wouldn’t be in this predicament. She sighed and went silent. I poked my tongue out at the plant. Mum hung up on me.

So now I feel bad. I shouldn’t upset Mum so I want to send her something to say sorry, something she’ll enjoy, look at and be reminded of me. I know just the thing ... I’m sure she’d love a second-hand Fiddle-Leaf Fig for Mother’s Day. Don’t you?