I live with 25 houseplants of 19 different varieties. The oldest is a Spineless Yucca I purchased in 1978 at a Dominion grocery store. My grandmother loved Christmas cacti. She gave clippings to my mother, who in turn gave clippings to her three daughters. Mine is still growing strong. In 2004 my colleagues sent me a mini garden after my mother-in-law died; I still have two Dracaenas, a Hoya and a Pothos from that little arrangement.

My care-taking experience with my husband exhausted me to the point where, after he died, I didn’t want to take care of anything. Anything. I sold our house because I didn’t want to take care of our yard. I have deliberately avoided getting a dog or a cat. Too much caretaking.

Houseplants are not usually considered pets, but to me, they are like a group of old friends. They can be a bother sometimes. Some are needier than others. Some want extra watering, some drop leaves in hard to reach corners.

When the Hoya in my bedroom blooms, the scent is so strong it wakes me up. I have to move the whole unwieldy thing to a temporary location out of my olfactory range. And then there are the tools, the potting soil, the extra pots, all taking up prime real estate in my front closet.

And then they surprise you with new growth or an unexpected flower. In the midst of weeks of never-ending snow squalls, my Dracaena has sprouted new growth, a reward for my efforts saving it from a strange mould and, oops, I over watered it. Even the heavily perfumed Hoya flowers are extremely pretty. They look like bundles of expensive candies. 

Just for fun, re-read those paragraphs above as if I were talking about friends, family, or spouses.

My care-taking responsibilities have been reduced to 25 houseplants, myself, and my creative projects. No dogs, no cats. That feels like plenty. There is no such thing as zero care-taking. Everyone should have something outside of themselves to care for. I still don’t want a dog. Or a husband.

Keep your joy.

Contentment is for Cows: Short and sweet reflections on life’s complications.

Posted every Sunday, unless it’s a holiday or summertime.