Life & Other Drugs

Meeting the Plants

November 30, 2016

Somehow I’m now someone who owns plants. Not just a plant, but plural plants. Two to be exact. I started out with such meager goals: buy a plant, take care of it, see if I’m capable of sustaining life outside of my own being. Then, it happened: my birthday, and suddenly my boyfriend had to be a jerk and give me a thoughtful and creative gift in the form of an aloe plant sent via mail.

So now I have two plants, a self-purchased orchid and a gifted aloe plant, and I’m feeling like I’ve gotten a little ahead of myself. To own two plants is to be a capital-a Adult. Where do I get off thinking I can muster the responsibility to remember to spray water on an unmoving object twice a week?

The thing is, these plants are no longer objects to me; no no, these plants have become my friends.




Meet Awomanda. Her name’s Awomanda rather than Amanda, because she embodies the resistance to the patriarchy that I strive toward in my own life. She has a little brown spot on her leaf, and when I first saw it I earnestly thought about scheduling her a dermatologist appointment. Then I remembered she was a plant. Awomanda is beautiful and self-assured and doesn’t fuck around. We should all strive to be like Awomanda.




Now, meet Nameless Aloe Plant. His name is Nameless Aloe Plant (get it? I’m ironic now, I’m in college, that’s my thing). For short, we’ll call him Nap. And nap he does: look at those stems!!! He’s a disgrace to the family. And the way he demands so much space on my desk in his ornate pot despite the fact that he is the size of a literal peanut. Nap plantspreads and we all hate him for it. Don’t be like Nap.

My plants may not be perfect (I’m looking at you Nap), but they’re good enough from me.

Images via Dana Schneider and Annie Warner.

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