#292: A Bear Paw (Plant)

How to garden with encouragement

Let me introduce you to Roosevelt, or Teddy as I sometimes call him. He is a bear paw succulent, and he has recently been moved from his tiny first home to a larger pot in which he can (very, very slowly) grow.

I’ll admit, I am not good at looking after plants. I either water them too much, or forget to water them for weeks; I know what the verb ‘prune’ means, but I never know which bits I’m supposed to prune off, unless they happen to be very obviously dead. I love the idea of having flowering plants around my house, but I have no concept of how to make them flower more than once. And while I could take the time to learn, this is one of those areas which really does not grab my attention — I love learning about many things, but for some reason, I have a strong aversion to gardening.

And yet despite all this, I love the sight of plants in my house. I love them more because I am without a garden, due to the millennial, forever-renting, city life that I lead. If I ever have my own garden, I plan to fill it with trees I need to do nothing with and a wild flower meadow that grows of its own accord.

But back to Roosevelt — can you guess where his name is from? — and his furry bear paws. I have to confess, Roosevelt lost more paws than I’d care to admit in the re-potting process. But still he stands, with (most) furry bear paws still attached, and I live in hope that he doesn’t start to wither and die in the next week or so.

I have become attached to Roosevelt. I like to stroke his bear-paw-shaped — er, leaves? arms? hands? Whatever they are, they are soft and furry, and very un-plant-like. He is, as you can plainly see, adorable. If he does manage to live past this initial early stage of adoption, I am curious as to how big he will grow, and what he will look like.

I will also admit that I talk to him, willing him to grow and survive despite my inconsistent botany skills. It brings to mind that part in Madeleine l’Engle’s A Wind in the Door when Calvin does an experiment growing plants. He leaves one in a house full of hate and negativity, one well-watered but left to its own devices, and one that he speaks to with loving affection. Can you guess which one, in this wonderful children’s book, thrived? Perhaps if I talk to Roosevelt enough, encourage him enough, he will grow and survive in the adverse circumstances of my haphazard care. For now, I must remember to water him, and patiently wait and see.

Katie writes regularly about random objects that she finds in her everyday life. If you’re interested in reading more, check out her blog Object, a collaboration with fellow Medium blogger Eleanor. You can also follow us on Twitter @ ObjectBlog.