Humor

Plants Are People, Too!

Meet Biscuit, our pet hibiscus

We always refer to Biscuit as “him” although “they” would be more appropriate. (Wikipedia tells me that the hibiscus rosa-sinensis has both male and female parts on the same flower.) He doesn’t mind.

Sometimes his mood is subdued, though. Then we talk to him and help him keep his leaves shiny and green, and free from infestations. But when he’s really happy, he breaks out in flamboyant red flowers that each last only a single day. Sometimes one or two at a time, sometimes six or more. Right now he has literally dozens of buds ready to bloom.

When my husband brought him home from the plant nursery (or was it Costco?), something like 15 years ago, he was not a baby, more like a teenager I would say. He was shaped like a small tree, with a slender stem and a round head, and he had flowers all over, as he’d been reared in hothouse conditions with abundant light on all sides.

Love reciprocated

We positioned him near the sliding glass doors to the deck, but soon he would flower only on the side where the daylight was. My husband started to turn him on a regular basis, for maximum light exposure. It was touching to behold.

How else to explain that Biscuit ceased to flower when Dad left to work abroad?

When we first met, you see, my husband was not a fan of houseplants. He believed that they’d bring spiders and other insects into the house. Where he came from, people kept plants in the courtyard or on the balcony, never in the living room. But I was already growing spider plants and tradescantia on the windowsill of my dorm room when we started dating. These two plants were so easy to maintain and propagate that we students used to root cuttings in water to share with our friends. As nobody had money to spare for potting soil, we would just walk to the nearby park at night and dig up some dirt, one little flowerpot at a time.

Somehow, I managed to gradually win him over. For the first twenty years or so of our married life he only tolerated my plants. He took no interest in them, other than to drily report every now and then, “That thing needs spraying. It has bugs all over it,” with a look of utter disgust on his face.

All that changed when he fell in love with Biscuit.

At first the kids and I thought it was just a one-sided infatuation. We had never seen Dad talk to a plant or admiringly caress its leaves. He even volunteered to water Biscuit (who’s a thirsty fellow) on a daily basis. After doing that, he would stand back and gaze at his buddy with a beatific smile. The kind of smile that he generally reserves for the moment a restaurant waiter puts a delicious dish in front of him.

And that flower buds reappeared within days of his return?

But soon it became clear that the admiration was mutual. How else to explain that Biscuit ceased to flower when Dad left to work abroad? And that flower buds reappeared within days of his return?

That could only be LOVE.

How Biscuit got his name

When Biscuit came to live with us, one of our kids asked, “What kind of plant is that? I answered, “A hibiscus,” pronouncing it the Dutch (and British) way. One of the older ones said, “Yeah, but the Americans pronounce it, like, Hi, Biscus!” It was but a small step from Biscus to Biscuit.

“But he hates it outside!”

Due to his size, Biscuit was never easy to lift up and move around, so from the beginning we kept him on a wheeled plant stand. Michigan winters are harsh and central heating can be hard on houseplants, as is the icy air blowing from the AC registers in summer. Biscuit had grown leggy and a bit droopy, too. I suggested to give him a haircut (commonly referred to as pruning) and move him out on the deck toward the end of May, and we did so together. But after almost a year spent indoors, Biscuit did not respond very well to the sudden transition into full sun. His leaves developed white sunburn patches and started falling off.

This turned out to be a traumatic experience for his Dad, even after I drew his attention to the brand new leaf buds sprouting all over.

The buyer told us he would’t mind keeping “the tree.”

Over the last twelve years, we moved house a couple of times, and Biscuit moved with us, getting larger and unwieldier all the time. The kids grew up and moved out, and now we were downsizing. The new house would be a lot smaller, and I convinced my husband to offer some of our larger furniture pieces to the interested party. The buyer told us that he would’t mind keeping “the tree” as well. I thought it was not a bad idea, as we planned to spend several months of the year abroad, and our younger son would have to look after the house and its contents. Why saddle him with this extra responsibility? But to my surprise, Haroun was indignant when I told him I promised the buyer that we’d leave him the plant. “Mom!” he exclaimed, “How can you leave Biscuit with a stranger? He’s part of the family!”

And so he is, officially now. Every springtime, my husband and I still have a little tussle when it’s time to move Biscuit to the patio.

“But, you know he doesn’t like it outside,” my husband says. “He hates it!”

“And you know that’s only temporary.” I say. “All he needs is a haircut and some fertilizer.”

I always win. Because I’m the one with the greenest thumbs in the family. But whenever my husband is away, Biscuit will go into a sulky, droopy mood for awhile, blooming only intermittently, halfheartedly. Then I have to become the plant whisperer. And when he perks up, I hasten to send some pics to the Dad, to show him that his darling is contented, living the life of Reily.

However, when I arrived home in March, just in time to keep Biscuit and Haroun company through the pandemic lockdown, Biscuit almost at once began to show his appreciation, a bloom or two at a time. I lovingly treated him with neem oil when a plague of whiteflies started bothering him. When the weather became warm enough, I dragged him out onto the patio, where I gave him a good snipping and a fresh layer of top soil. We went through the usual sun-induced shedding.

But today Biscuit has a fuller head of leaves than ever before, with lots of flowers and lots of buds. Today Biscuit is in his glory. I’m pretty sure he will outlive us.

Inspired by a WhatsApp conversation with Literary Impulse colleagues Somsubhra Banerjee, Priyanka Srivastava and Keta Nachi

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