A nyone remember Urkell from that annoying sitcom? The geek who wore his pants pulled up a foot past his belly button and said in a nasal-filled voice, “Did I do that?” That’s what’s going through my head as I look at this picture.
I can’t help it. I’m a murderer. A plant murderer. The irony here is that I have hundreds (thousands?) of plants that I tend to, talk to them (yep, I do, sometimes at least), and WILL to live. Yet every year I knowingly and willingly kill a plant.
I pity the poinsettia that has the rotten luck to be picked up by me in mid-December. It has done nothing wrong. All it does is show off its bright colors, attaining a great display of holiday glory. And for a time, I treat it with the respect it deserves. But then the holiday passes. The Christmas tree comes down. The decorations are boxed up. And there’s the poinsettia. Still looking as perky as the day it came to its new home.
And it’s the last thing in the world I want to look at.
So one day I’ll look over and see that it looks a little limp. And I know it needs water. But I walk past. Sure, I feel guilty, but it passes. It will happen again, the next day, and the day after that. And then finally it’s obvious.
It has passed.
Gone to plant heaven.
I suppose there would be more humane ways to accomplish this mission. I could chop it off like you might when dealing a death blow to a lobster. Apparently my mother-in-law once put an ill hamster in the freezer in an effort to ease its suffering until the inevitable happened. I suppose I could have, um, forgotten it outside.
I do feel guilty begging Mother Nature to save my prized plants and then allowing another to die just because I can’t stand looking at it anymore, but I think this is something a poinsettia is just going to have to accept. In the past week I’ve met three other people (all master gardeners) who admit to poinsettia homicide of some degree.
Anyway, it is done. Whoops.
8 Responses
I know your blog was written years ago. Still, I have to respond. I have felt so guilty for years and years. Every year I am gifted with a huge poinsettia. Every year I end up (eventually) putting it out to die. Now, truthfully, back in the day, I did try all the stuff you’re supposed to do to get them to rebloom the following year. Since I didn’t really have the right conditions, they lived but looked awful. I’ve tried discouraging my gifters but they don’t get it. I guess making me into a plant murderer doesn’t bother them…Anyway, I’m glad to know I’m not the only one who feels badly about poinsettia-cide!
I had to laugh at what you said. Somewhere I read a post where someone put theirs outside in the freezing temps. I just allowed my husband to do that with a philodendron that I had given water to, to see if it would revive from its shriveling. Oh, well, for some reason I had two, and the other one is doing well.
Thanks for the links and sites you gave me for kitchen remodeling. I spent a lot of time looking at them last night, and drug some photos to my desktop. I even posted a couple messages to a couple people asking them if they like their beadboard back splashes.
Hi Erin,
Your one (poinsettia), my several. They make artificial plants for people like me.
Hey, thanks for stopping by my blog and leaving the nice comment regarding our kitchen face-lift. Although a bit slow in responding, I do appreciate you stopping by.
Projects can't get done in 30 minutes or less, like on HGTV? My world will never be the same!
Oh,my! I feel sooooo much better after reading that! I have been feeling guilty all day about putting my three poinsettia plants outside, knowing full well that there will be enough frost tonight to kill them daid. So thank you for letting me know that I am NOT alone in poinsetticide!
Glad to see you have joined the ranks of us plant killers. I used to think being a plant killer went hand-in-hand with gardening but over the years I've started feeling guilty about some of the deaths. The victims were generally expensive and much coveted. Hope your poinsettia wasn't too pricey!
Christine in Alaska
I hope so, Linda. That actually makes me feel a little better.
I think poinsettias are born knowing that is their fate.
I am so sorry for your loss.