Monday, January 16, 2023

Pedestrian Tastes

Inspirational song: Simple Man (Lynyrd Skynyrd)

The internet is full of plant snobs. I'm certain of this now. I've looked in on most of the big plant-tube accounts, and a large scattering of smaller ones. There are influencers dedicated to showing off only the rarest, most expensive varieties of the fussiest plants. That's fun to watch to a point, but I'm discovering that beyond a few neat ones (mostly succulent types), I'm just not into the same stuff that the Instagram planties are. I don't care about variegation nearly as much, and I get grossed out by some of the highly prized species. Okay, I get that some of my revulsion stems from an ever-increasing trypophobia on my part, so spotted begonias and fenestrated monstera adansonii (Swiss cheese plant) naturally set off my alarm bells. But I must have a healthy amount of peanut butter and jelly level taste in a caviar world. There are some absolute basic plants that I adore, and would never be without. 

Take snake plants, for example. I keep one in the north-facing window in my bathroom, and I often stop to admire and pet it before showers or while brushing my teeth. Last year, or maybe the year before, I came across sturdy pots of them at Costco, and didn't hesitate to add another to the collection (which at the time was mostly outdoor plants plus some sadly neglected house plants). As I've been building my indoor jungle, expanding my horizons as to species and varieties, I can't help but gaze longingly at other sanseveria in stores and online, wishing for different kinds and more, more, more. These things are as basic as it gets, and I have loved them my whole life. Keep the fussy anthuriums or giant Thai constellation monsteras or whatever is in right now. I'll sit and eat a PBJ and pet my snake plants.

I was feeling much improved after yesterday's migraine, so I went out to Walmart to cross one plant section off my list as I search for my friend's gift. (I also needed some blueberries and swag hooks, so it made sense to start there.) After seeing online the massively stocked Walmarts in the Deep South, I was bitterly disappointed in the still mostly empty garden center at my Northern Colorado location. Nothing there would have made a good gift. Very little even rated a passing glance from me. I searched the succulents thoroughly, but they did not impress. Only one thing grabbed me, just as I grabbed it and didn't put it down. A five dollar, four inch pot of sanseveria, dark and fat with minimal variegation. I fell in love. He's a tiny thing, but he will grow. For now, he's on my dimly lit liquor cabinet, waiting to dry out from getting drenched by a Walmart employee. Soon I will find him a permanent home, as befits a member of my favorite house plant species.

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