"Root Rot Regrowth"

            The redbrick house sat so close to the railroad tracks that it shook whenever a train thundered past. No decorations adorned the walls. No knickknacks sat on the dressers or hutches. No one dared leave a glass on the kitchen counter. At one time, the house belonged to a railroad company for employees to use for overnight stops. Eventually, my great-aunt Helen settled there to take care of her syphilis insane ex-husband . . . but that’s another story.

            I loved Aunt Helen’s house because of the porch that covered its front. Wicker chairs, a bench swing, and enormous planters filled with Mother-in-law tongues provided a hideaway for me and my siblings during our visits to League City, Texas. My grandmother, uncle and his family lived next door in a nasty, dysfunctional home. I preferred Aunt Helen’s tales of her wild and reckless youth to the more difficult to understand stories of my grandmother. As a child, I could barely understand a word she said. Later, as an adult, I learned to appreciate the richness of a Cajun cadence. 

            Aunt Helen taught me to propagate plants. From her, I learned to appreciate separating new growth from the roots. She showed me how to pinch off a philodendron at just the right spot and just how much sunlight it needed to grow in a glass jar. Kneeling in her gardens, I separated bulbs and appreciated the hardiness of the Purple Heart Wandering Jew plant, which thrive in my yard today—grown from clippings from her garden more than fifty years ago.

            The Mother-in-law tongue plants became my favorite plants to nurture. I loved everything about them: the green outlined by yellow, the long and slender sword-like leaves. My imagination latched onto their name that alluded to the sharp tip of a mother-in-law’s criticism.

            After Aunt Helen died, her plants went to various friends. I inherited one that resided with me in my college apartment. One winter, I negligently left it outside on the porch. It died a horrible, frozen death.

            For some reason, many years passed before I purchased two Mother-in-law tongue plants. I fell in love with it all over again! This time, I made certain to bring them in each winter. Once the plants crowded in their pots, I’d repot them into a slightly larger container, always attending to their preferences. Both plants thrived!

            Until they didn’t.

            Not enough sunlight.

            Too much water.

            Suddenly, I found myself on my knees, hose in hand, gently tugging each leaf grouping apart. Mush in some sections. Healthy leaves in another. I focused on recovery. Every day, I visit these plants and murmur an incantation of encouragement.

            Just enough sunlight.

            Water measured with caution.

            Regrowth.

Eight plants thriving now in 2026

Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Outside In”

In anticipation of today’s empty the greenhouse project, I woke up before my alarm. Shifting a few small pieces of furniture in the living room and strategizing the best way to protect a bathroom shelf, I patted myself on the back for picking up heavy duty aluminum foil last night. It took a few minutes to wrap the wood with wax paper and foil to provide a surface secure from any water spillage. 

The next problem, bringing in the huge ferns, was solved by a strong back and wheelbarrow power. Eight mother-in-law tongues took up more of the front room while our bathroom added some hanging baskets and a shelf of Jade. It didn’t take me too long to bring in various pots into the living room. 

The greenhouse received spider plants and purple hearts, both hardy enough to handle more than a single day of freezing temperatures. I threw in the cushions from our lounge chairs and some outdoor pillows to help retain some warmth in the small structure. 

We will leave the frost cloths off of everything until this evening. At the moment, light rain saturates everything. I’m taking advantage of it, and the current temperature of 67° to let everything  soak and breathe before the freeze hits. 

Copyright 2026 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Propagation Progress"

Swedish Ivy growing strong!

 

            Two weeks ago, I pinched back Swedish Ivy, Pothos and jade to add to my outdoor plants. The Swedish Ivy, floating in a mason jar doused daily with morning light, grew quickly. I moved it yesterday into its own hanging basket. As the “momma” plant’s growth during the same period dangled new tendrils, I harvested them for another round of rooting in water.
            My Pothos sits on the dining room table where I check it daily for roots to signal they need transplanting into soil. I predict these cuttings will need into next week before they get their own pot. Grandmother’s crystal vase, which I use constantly for propagating Pothos, will receive a new clipping after I transfer its Pothos into soil today.
            The jade, pinched back and allowed to form a callus, sits outside already in tiny new pots. Establishing these transplants takes more time as jade has a slow growing attitude. However, my original plants show healthy progress with new, small promising buds.

Slow growing jade shows progress!

Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Little Roses”

 

            What is my special treat from the grocery store? Flowers. We enter our local HEB from one set of doors to purchase groceries. Our route swings us by the plants and cut flowers at the end of our shopping. A quick evaluation of our cart to judge whether I’m in budget or not means I may indulge in either cut flowers or a small plant. The mini roses often draw my attention. First, their inexpensive price tag means the experiment to keep them alive won’t break the bank.  In the past, I’ve repotted the little roses and successfully moved them to spots outside. Currently, I have one that has survived for almost a year. It’s not blooming yet, but I’m hopeful it’ll hang in there long enough to bloom again.

            I feel absolutely spoiled when a dozen roses end up in our cart. Sometimes, the store has my ultimate favorite—yellow. More often, red or pink bouquets add splashes of color to our practical grocery purchases. I try to take the time not only to “smell the roses” but to preserve them through my photography.  

 

Copyright 2024 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman