Sowing seeds of doubt
Even having grown up in Southern California surrounded by flora, I’ve always had a brown thumb. Given the opportunity, I could send a cactus to an early grave. I never thought I could be one of those exterior domestic goddesses, watering can sprouting from hand, flouncing from plant to luxurious plant.
Similarly, relationships have never been my strength. Men say they’re simple. As far as I’m concerned, a Delphinium leucophaeum is easier to pronounce and care for than the needs of most men. I suppose I could just get myself a plastic plant that does the job ... but in my heart I’m a botanist -- and a romantic. Besides, I’ve discovered that gardening and relationships follow the same laws of nature.
Whether you’re planting seeds or working with a pre-established relationship, there are pitfalls to look out for from the start: weeds. Webster’s defines a weed as: “A plant considered undesirable, unattractive, or troublesome, especially one growing where it is not wanted.” The human parallel: the ex-girlfriend or ex-wife. Yanking these nagging parasites before they sabotage your relationship is vital to healthy progress.
Sometimes you meet a man who is even more established or rooted than you are. It’s like falling for that beautiful plant sitting so comfortably in a green plastic Home Depot container labeled “$5.95.” When you try to transplant it into that hand-painted Mexican pot, what does it do? It starts to wilt on you within a couple of days. Men, too, go through “plant shock.” So wait for the right climate and then ever so gently transplant, massaging the roots.
Care and maintenance are also key to growth. When you pay too much attention you can drown a guy. Forgetting to nourish your relationship is also a killer. It’s about finding a balance and occasionally jazzing things up with the unexpected -- maybe a sprinkling of “topsoil” to enrich the object of your affections.
Sometimes the outcome of a relationship has to do with the seeds you choose to plant. I decided at one point that I wanted to be completely enveloped with love (and foliage). I planted morning glory, a clinging vine that is said to symbolize affection. The man who came into my life fit this description. The morning glory sprouted fast. “morning man” came on extra-strong. But both man and plant grew out of control and burned out before evening.
I also planted hyacinths, which symbolize constancy. Like the man I was involved with, they took forever to come around. At first they were just little sprouts, then slightly bigger sprouts. Finally, almost nine months in, two tiny flowers popped out. Meanwhile, my intimacy-phobic beau finally grew more loving and open. But it went only so far. The flowers and the relationship had to be euthanized.
But I’m not disheartened. Both gardening and relationships are trial and error. I recently headed back to Mordigan Nurseries in West Hollywood. This time I went for the obvious: Cupid’s Dart seeds. I planted them and it wasn’t a day before he lanced his arrow into a victim. I’m optimistic.
I might have to work through a lot of manure, but with the right care, plant and conditions, something’s got to bloom.
Shana Ting Lipton can be reached at weekend@ latimes.com.
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