“That plant died.”
“No. It didn’t. You fucking murdered it.”
I love when someone tells me that a plant has died.
Plants don’t just die. They don’t have depression, anxiety attacks or the overwhelming need for Zoloft. They are not melodramatic, write goodbye letters and commit suicides. I know it’s not good practice to use a single example to validate a statement, but I’ve never once witnessed a plant, uproot its self to draft out a will and testament, and then die.
Here is what actually happens. People or things kill them. When I say people, I mean you. When I say things, I mean natural disasters, deer, gophers, or children with an affinity to stab trees with knives (***this is a real example from a consultation I went on, where the parents would let their devil child stab the trees with a knife! Can’t wait to read about that kid in the newspapers.) I find it funny when blame is placed on the plant, and not the person who is supposed to be caring for the plant. Professionally, I’m waiting for the day that zombie plants come back to life to avenge their own deaths. I would take pleasure in seeing a poorly watered primrose come back to life, and smother an unsuspecting gardener to death. Personally, I’m waiting for the day that zombie plants come back to life and give my sister a good, old-fashion what for. She doesn’t like watering. Or bees. Or when her gardenia doesn’t flower. It’s frustrating on so many levels, and I find myself summoning a zombie attack with every insipid conversation we have about her concerns for her garden. It usually ends in me trailing off about how I’ll fertilize something with something at some point… and her driving us to the nearest wine bar, and quickly changing the topic.
Plant murderers never admit to their misdeeds. And you have to be careful, they are tricky and cloak themselves under the false identities of little old ladies, mow-blow-and go gardeners, and people working in professional buildings. The poor Philodendron in your cubical (no doubt lacking real sunlight, air circulation, water and nutrients) didn’t just die. It was a victim of a full blown office assault! Or the hapless hydrangeas, though planted with what resembled care, were subsequently murdered from lack of water while sweet Grandma Jones went away on vacation, to see her grandchildren for three weeks. Grandma Jones is a murderer.
In conclusion, it didn’t just die. You killed it.
But if you’d like a list of zombie plants (plants that seem to come back to life after just about anything!) peruse below and add some of your own:
*What are some others?