Resilience is resistance
… and other lessons I’ve learned from my plants.
Each morning after hitting snooze a time or two I jump out of bed and raise the blinds. Why? The little white card stuck into my Alocasia Polly pot told me to. That is, Alocasias enjoy morning light—and who am I to deny her her moment(s) in the sun?
Granted, some mornings it’s still dark or it’s snowing—or a mix of the two—but other times it’s a clear sky day and I can tell the sun is going to grace us and lighten our wintry moods.
Padding to the kitchen for coffee, I check in on the plants I see on my way there. Two pots containing narcissus bulbs are making impressive progress; green shoots reach skyward but, noticeably, each bulb is growing at its own pace. It brings me joy to monitor their progress.
Each house plant tells a story. The narcissus bulbs were sent to us by a friend. The same friend also gifted us our beloved fiddle-leaf fig (pictured above) and African violet. There’s also a small cactus, version 2.0. I managed to somehow kill version 1.0 and after a bout of self-deprecating storytelling, another friend sent me a replacement cactus—happy to report that she’s thriving!
Caring for plants happens from afar, too. Friends sometimes ask for advice picking out plants for their own space, as well as tips for keeping them alive and/or helping them thrive (just now realizing I probably haven't disclosed the story of cactus 2.0 to them). Others have shared how our urban jungle inspired them to start their own.
Merely the act of having house plants started this little community. And from it—and the plants that brought us together—I’ve learned a few lessons.
#1 Bloom when it’s right for you.
One of the newest additions to our plant fam is the Clivia plant, a lily with trumpet-like flowers that blooms in—you guessed it—winter! Unlike, oh, most every other plant I know, the Clivia blooms in a season when (a) everyone really appreciates what makes it unique and (b) most of its peers are doing the complete opposite. Heed the Clivia plant: Bloom when it’s right for you.
#2 If you’re doing it right, you’re going to outgrow your pot.
And if your growth has stagnated, it might be time for a transplant.
#3 Resilience is resistance.
A plant-loving friend of mine pointed me towards an exhibition at a local museum titled Seeds of Resistance—an exploration of the interdependence of plants and humans (in particular, how seeds maintain the genetic histories of both plants and people). Of the many striking exhibits, the Palestine Heirloom Seed Library display—a project dedicated to preserving the agricultural identity of a country, land, and people—represented this notion best: resilience is an act of resistance.
Supplemental reading:
On blooming | Writers & Lovers by Lily King
On growth | A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman
On resilience | The Yellow House by Sarah M. Broom
Fun read as always.