What I’ve recently learned about my plants

Before I begin, clearly, there are gardeners out there who know loads more than me. I admit to knowing nothing about gardening, but I’ve prayed and asked God to guide my hands and show me what to do, and it’s through God that I have the courage to try new things in my gardening.

During my experimentation in recent months, (I’ve been experimenting in different ways to see what works best.) I’ve had the privilege of watching some of my plants grow from seeds to seedlings (have yet to see them fully mature).

Thanks to a neighbour who says her seedlings thrive outdoors despite our extreme weather (sizzling hot days to harsh storms and gale force winds), I decided to let some of my seedlings stay out in the elements.

Other seedlings, I’ve placed in greenhouses, and yet others I’ve placed indoors.

Clearly, the first lesson was that different seedlings survived better in different conditions. Some loved my windowsill, others hated it. Only a few survived the greenhouse, most preferred the outdoors even if it meant living in a coffee cup, milk carton, plant bag or foam box.

I learned how to transfer plants to bigger containers as they grew (which I’m sure the plants appreciate) and I’ve learned that some plants take to “moving house” better than others. Some would die soon after I transferred them, others appeared to give a sigh of relief and spread themselves out a little more.

But my biggest realisation occurred today when I realise that in many ways, plants are like humans (or is it that we are just like plants).

Like babies, all seedlings.. for lack of a better term, need to be molly coddled. And in their tender stages, they need all the extra attention we can offer them.

But then comes that teen stage, they want to break out of their mold in the same way a teenager tests their parents’ limits.

As a teen becomes a young adult and is mature enough to leave, they learn, once independent, how to toughen up and deal with all that life throws at them.

I’ve noticed seedlings are much like that. If we try to hold back their progress and keep them protected in a way that they’re limited from the elements, they appear to fade and die away over time. The bean seedling in the image above (top left) is a good example of one struggling with life as I keep it in the mini greenhouse. It constantly sticks it’s leaves out the door of the greenhouse craving for all the elements.

Yet the seedlings that I put out to deal with the sun, wind, rain and everything else develop strong sturdy stems, bright leaves and appear to get stronger and grow more with each day. The pepper, tomato and potato seedlings, also pictured above, are examples of this.

So very much like humans.

I remember staying with my mum till my mid 20s. In my teens, I was more than ready to leave my nest but finances held me back. I was bold enough to try new things and game to take the world on. I wanted to travel and do my own thing.

By staying with my mum for another decade, I appeared to whither (if only on the inside). I woke up to life and it’s dangers and I became “not ready” to brave the elements that life aimed to throw at me.

My mum was my greenhouse, and although the heat of the sun (in my case, family pressures) was destroying me on the inside, I hung on.

I finally did leave my nest, or, as you will, transfer to a bigger pot outside of my comfort zone to face the elements head on, and although it was scary at first, I survived and with each passing year, I grew stronger again and bolder.

My independence helped me spread out, it hardened my stem and toughened my leaves so that I could face all adversity head on.

Maybe parents of adult kids who DON’T want to leave the nest should start to be cruel to be kind.

This wouldn’t suit everyone, I realise that. There are young adults out there with many debilitating issues that need to remain in their greenhouse for as long as is needed.

But I’m aiming this at the young healthy adults with no illnesses, invisible or otherwise, fit enough to work, who don’t need to rely on their parents income and can afford to move out on their own.

In their own way, plants have a lot to teach us. Maybe it’s time we all started taking a closer look at them, whether you think you’re a brown thumb (which I thought I was) or not. If we’re willing to learn, they’ll be as patient with us as we are with them, and through this symbiotic relationship, perhaps, we can grow to be a better, more independent society.