Pacific Grove Has a Random Plant Killer

"I'm a plant killer.  I try to grow things and they just die.  Do I love them too much?"

A pretty young woman standing in the middle of the greenhouse garden shop looked around at the loveliness surrounding her.  It was a space wafting negative ions into the morning atmosphere, where the morning's bright light was diffused by stained-glass window panels hanging above repurposed dressers and sideboards.  Every little detail of the delicate and beautiful array of garden accessories and gifts was perfect counterpoint to the charm and health of orchids, azaleas, lillies and tea roses; their vitality and freshness perfumed the air.

The clerk smiled benignly.  "I see.  Where do you live in the area?"

Plant Killer described an area beset with cuffing winds and salt air, where the native trees are stunted and lean sideways permanently, at the far western edge of town.  The ocean with its seaweed and gnarled rocks were a stone's throw away from her yard.

This was quite a challenge, even for master gardeners.  At best, local natives could be grown, but there would have to be protection from deer and marauding insects when the plants were babies.

I looked around at the plant selection and saw not one native plant in sight.  Local flora have adapted over zillions of years to the worst that our climate has to offer including hordes of deer, fire and and long droughts in the summer months.  The wind is always a tough adversary, often bringing enthusiastic gardeners to their knees, begging for mercy and whimpering sadly.  The clerk I believe realized she had no chance for a sale today but offered a small suggestion.

"You could start with one indoor plant and see how you do.  Then, maybe later try something outdoors again once you feel more confident."

"I tried an orchid, but it turned black and had mold.  I thought there was a chance I wouldn't kill it, but it's super dead now.  Really dead.  Like, it's crispy."  Plant Killer frowned.  "I really want to grow things!"

I looked at the tender maidenhair fern near me.  I think it trembled.   It wouldn't last a second.  I stood in front of it, guarded it protectively.

The clerk reached for a succulent, a jade plant.  "This is a plant that grows really easily and should do well in your area of town."  Just water it once a week, she said, and don't let it stand in the water; let it drain out, but keep the soil damp, and she told Plant Killer to touch some dirt in another pot to understand the nature of dampness.  "This is just damp.  You don't want wet; you want damp.  If it gets dry, the little roots inside the dirt will be stressed and it will suffer."  She looked up at Plant Killer and studied her and then repeated the instructions.  "Keep it indoors in a bright area of your house where it will get lots of sun. The more sun it gets, the more likely it will dry out quickly, so you have to watch it.  Check it every day."

Plant Killer was listening, leaning into the information, trying to absorb it and understand the needs of plants.  "I really love flowers, but they die on me.  I mean, how hard can it be to grow a flower, you know?  But, that's me.  I just kill them and then I feel so bad," she wailed, "like I'm just pure poison or something.  Here, look.  Is my thumb black to you?" She didn't look murderous nor inept, but apparently she was.  I imagined a black cast to her thumb, like she was made of charcoal, but I was a distance away and trying to look like I wasn't listening.

The clerk gripped the jade plant's pot and seemed to be considering her responsibility to all plant life, her duty to intervene and prevent the certain death of this innocent life form.  I shifted my stance to guard more plants near me.

The clerk went on. "You know, you could just hire a gardener and get some basic plants kind of off and running that way and then see how it's done.  Learn by watching kind of thing, right?"  She set the jade plant down.

Plant Killer considered this and nodded.  "Yeah, I could do that.  Here I'll buy that little sucker plant and let someone else come over and take care of it."

"It's a succulent, really, and I guess that'll be fine.  $2.95 for this."  She asked if there would be anything else.  "No," was the reply, "thank you anyway. I don't feel so deadly now.  I feel like there's hope."

I watched her walk out of the greenhouse, taking a winding path along the crushed granite walkways, gazing at the tender glories on all sides.  She was cradling her new purchase in the crook of her elbow and reaching for her purse on her right.  Good luck, I thought.

A few heartbeats later there was the unmistakable dull cracking smack of a dirt-filled ceramic pot hitting the sidewalk.

"Oh, noooo! I did it already!"  Plant Killer is loose in the city, last seen on Lighthouse Avenue, heading west.  Known to have a very black thumb.