The Accidental (Blank): A Gardener and a Whole Lot More

This blog post, originally to be named The Accidental Gardener, is at least 18 months overdue. In its earliest iteration, the blog was to be devoted to gardening, in both its physical and metaphorical sense. My love affair with plants began when I started graduate school in 1975; it has ebbed and flowed through the decades; and only in the past three years has it successfully culminated in the production of an actual vegetable. Hence, the accidental gardener.

However, I have learned in recent years, that we often fall into unexpected roles – some desirable, some absolutely undesirable. And it is how we handle those roles that define how we continue to grow and nurture relationships with others, even later in life.

It has become increasingly evident to me that I morphed into much more than an accidental gardener. I have grown into an accidental cook (I was never any good before), gym rat, a spinning enthusiast (2019), widow (2013), newlywed (2016), volunteer (my beagle is a therapy dog), a devoted (jigsaw) puzzler, art collector, and more.

In short, I have become an accidental gardener and a whole lot more. As this blog meanders in the posts ahead, I will share some of these journeys with those who choose to read and share with me. I hope you will find some humor in them, and when the situation merits, perhaps a little life lesson.

Now back to the beginning – why the early fascination with house plants? It was simple, really.

In 1975, I was a graduate student in journalism at the University of Missouri- Columbia, living in a studio apartment. With 52 plants! Most, by necessity, were small enough to fit on a windowsill.

But here’s the thing. Whenever I had a bad day, or faced a big paper, or an exam, or just needed cheering up, I could make myself feel better with a plant, often bought at the grocery store, for $.99 or $1.99. I distinctly remember a potted ivy in a small replica wishing well – that was probably a $2.99 splurge.

Those plants gave me something to nurture. I watered them; I pruned them; I gave them to friends. I talked to them. They took me out of myself – out of a one-person pity party that is so easy for all of us to fall into, if even for a short time – and gave me something to care for. And something to share.

My love for plants never abated. My first house in Arlington, TX, in 1979, had a greenhouse, though I soon discovered it was far too big and far too hot for a hobbyist like myself. Many years later upon moving to New England, we spent one month in an apartment before moving into our home. The first item I bought was a plant – a ponytail palm that is still with me in 2019. It has since been joined by a much larger ponytail palm.

Then why today, of all days, do I finally feel compelled to start this blog? I kept thinking back to that studio apartment in Columbia, MO, and the types of plants I purchased. I was good with succulents then, but I am not good with them now. I remember that I bought a small plant with dark green striped leaves (that resembled a watermelon) called a peperomia, and that I had not seen one of those plants in decades.

Until today. At Home Depot. For $12.98. I must buy it.

(If interested, much information is available about the easy-to-grow plant. Either google it or simply start with Wikipedia:

Peperomia (radiator plant) is one of the two large generaof the family Piperaceae, with more than 1000 recorded species. Most of them are compact, small perennialepiphytes growing on rotten wood. More than 1500 species have been recorded, occurring in all tropical and subtropical regions of the world, though concentrated in Central America and northern South America. A limited number of species (around 17) are found in Africa.)

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