My Plants,  Updates

The fallacy of a “quick” or “cheap” nursery run

It was supposed to be a quick trip to get some potting soil and maybe two pots. That’s all. Seriously. I have had similar intentions going to my favourite hardware store in the past. That never turned out well (or cheap) either. 

Maybe I should just admit it. The nursery is my new catnip (or crack if I was un-PC). I always go there with clear intentions, to only get one or two very needed stuff. But then I walk around. I see some interesting plants (who the fuck am I kidding, ALL the plants are interesting to me)… Or I get stuck at the edibles, and that’s where the trouble starts

Buying edible plants isn’t really a luxury…right? I mean, it is food! It’s not like buying a ton of orchids and then accidentally kill them with your perpetual black thumb… This is different – please admit it’s different! And in this case, I went to the nursery to help my edible plants. The little herb-pots I planted my bean and tomato plants were so small they wouldn’t grow any larger than freakish bonsai-size. 

I had a list (admittedly in my head, a rookie mistake), my bank card (another rookie mistake – cash only when I’m trying to stick to a list), and I lathered myself in SPF30. Yeah, I see now. This trip was doomed from the start. I had no list, all the money in the world (let me just have it, dammit), and I made sure that the sun would not kill me while I leisurely spend all my money. And for a whole 15 min, I was set in my plan. I didn’t even take a trolley… until I saw the size of the potting-soil bags. I quickly found a very squeaky, hard-to-drive trolley. It was downhill from there.

First, I saw a granadilla plant. I ignored it. But like Audrey II, it called to me. I resisted twice and only lifted the most beautiful one onto my trolley on the third visit. Then off to the jardiniere (that’s fancy for flowerpot or planter) because my bean and tomato plants really needed to be repotted. Have I mentioned how much I love terracotta pots? I took two. Then I thought about the granadilla plant. It requires a jardiniere (admit it, this word is growing on you). And so I bought another terracotta pot – a larger one.

Onviously I went to get the granadilla plant (for the pot I just got) and almost bought an aubergine plant. But I resisted and took another tomato plant instead. Wait. I know I already have a few small bonsai-sized ones at home. BUT what if they died? This is a back-up one and it wasn’t too expensive. And then I bought some basil seedlings. Actually, I took them first. Basil was on my list, the one in my head. My basil at home is done…no more. It’s more sticks than leaves. I need fresh basil in my life. Oh and obviously little herb pots…duh! So three more little terracotta jardiniere in the trolley (tra-la-la-la-la).

By this time, I sounded like a terracotta accident waiting to happen. Between the bag of stones and river-sand (the poster on how to prepare the perfect pot for plants convinced me I needed it) and all the pots and plants, this trolley was as easy to navigate as a team of draft-cats. Two more bags of potting-soil, there, I was done. All this shopping made me feel like an under-watered plant. But the cafe was uphill from where I was, and I was very conscious that I had no control over my trolley or spending habits.

And for my final spending-trick, I picked up a small bag of fertiliser at the check-out point. Because, why the hell not? How much worse can R15 make this whole situation?? Not much.

Now, one would think that all this spending in the blazing sun would tire me? No. I got home, carried my loot up to my minute landing (and the new home for my plants), changed into planting-gear, and got my hands dirty. Quick note; scooping the stones for the first layer in the pots with your bare hands, like you’re digging a new cave, will result in ugly chipped nails and torn cuticles. Use it.. or don’t… But I got my hands dirty. And my legs. And my face (I don’t know…). And the whole landing. Good thing my neighbours were out.

The sum total of my day

In the end, I repotted the granadilla and the new tomato plant into new pots. The bean was moved to its new home too, and one more bean planted (hold thumbs the new one makes it). The thyme moved from the kitchen to the landing (and will hopefully survive the failed repotting), the basil moved to the garden (I just couldn’t throw it out). Three of the six new sweet basils were repotted into the new pots and are now living in the kitchen. The freakish bonsai-tomatoes were separated into different containers (but the same size, except for one that’s living in the granadilla’s old pot). And the smallest three basil seedlings now bunk together in one herb-pot. I should’ve bought more pots…

And now I have a landing full of edible plants (except for the succulent, Agatha). And I haven’t named them as I did with my non-edible plants. I’m sure Fergus is going to have a lot to say about this…sigh.

By the way, jardiniere actually refers to an ornamental pot or stand for plants. I suppose terracotta isn’t actually ornamental… But stuff that, I like the phrase. It stays.

Update on the mealybugs and Cynthia. I think I may have won the battle against the bloody little buggers on Sylvia (the porcelain plant), but I still zapped a few the other day with an alcohol swab. As for Cynthia (a creeping charley plant, she’s looking a little better (fuck, I really hope she does). I’m still spraying her regularly with my DIY bug spray and cutting away dead crispy leaves. However, it feels as if there are fewer of them now that she lives closer to the front door. And there are tons of new baby-leaves (yaaaaaay! thank the plant-gods). I have no idea what I’m going to do once winter comes and the front door will be closed most of the time.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *