Very Large Numbers

If Google's count can be trusted -- and why wouldn't it be; it's Google -- this is PATSP's 2000th post. It is not at all clear to me how I should be feeling about this, but I think we can all agree that it's a pretty big number, blogularly speaking. Consequently, there should be some Gazania photos ('New Day' mix, if you're keeping track), as Gazania is the Official Celebratory Flower of PATSP.

We also passed the one million word mark last November. Is there really that much to be said about plants? Probably not really, but, you know, I repeat myself sometimes.

Of course, we also got the three-millionth page view at the end of last March, too, so I guess people don't mind a little redundancy.

What's in the future for PATSP? I don't exactly know. For a lot of different reasons, I'm less interested in plants than I used to be. This has more or less killed the plans for the book. I feel bad about that -- I wanted to read it just as much as some of you did -- but I just can't force myself to work on that now. I did try. This may (MAAAAAAY) mean that the plant profiles are coming back in the next six to twelve months.

Having said that, the blog itself will probably endure. I am uncomfortable with having this much information about myself in Google's hands, and have been for some time, but that particular toothpaste has been out of the tube for years; nothing much to be done about it now. I do still have plenty of ideas for posts, including a solid half-dozen ideas right this minute, so my personal expectation is that Google will give up on hosting PATSP for free before I give up on writing it.

I'll still be surprised if we reach post #4000, but my surprise is not a reliable predictor of things. So we'll see what happens. 2000 posts is still an accomplishment, so let's have one more Gazania:

Site-related: three things about books

I will be hosting a book giveaway for America's Romance With the English Garden (Thomas J. Mickey) in early June. It's apparently¹ about the beginnings of the American garden industry, and how the English gardening style became the default style for American gardens. Not really normal PATSP fare, but it seemed like an interesting topic. If this interests you, you may wish to check out its page at Ohio University Press.

The cover:

I've added another plant to my endorsed houseplant books in the sidebar: Tempting Tropicals: 175 Irresistible Indoor Plants (Ellen Zachos). It's more or less a general-purpose houseplant book, as opposed to the Griffith book, which aimed at commercial producers, so it's probably better suited to the average PATSP reader. The main thing I like about Tempting Tropicals as opposed to many of the other houseplant books I've looked at is, Zachos has better information than most of them. Instead of the usual short and fairly meaningless care instructions most houseplant books give you,² Zachos actually goes into some detail, as well as providing more information about problems specific to each type of plant. There are other general houseplant books I approve of to one degree or another, but Zachos is the only one I would actually recommend to someone at the moment.³

I am also still technically working on my own book, or whatever it's going to be, though it's not going particularly well. The reasons for this may include but are not limited to: laziness, depression, poor time management, excessive physical exertion related to moving hundreds of plants in and out of the house and garage every time the weather changes, bad luck, not having a clear vision of the completed project, blogular interference, over-researching, declining enthusiasm for the subject matter, low self-esteem, or some combination of the above. But I am nevertheless still working on it. Technically.

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¹ I haven't read it yet (only on page 42 as I write this). I received a free review copy of America's Romance With the English Garden from the publisher, though I didn't promise to review the book, so you may or may not ever hear what I think of it.
² E.g. "Light: Bright. Water: Keep evenly moist."
³ I have not received anything in exchange for this endorsement, and in fact don't actually even own a copy myself -- the copy I read, I got from the Iowa City Public Library.

Saturday morning Sheba and/or Nina picture

Old picture (from last June), but I figure it will probably serve your Nina-photo needs. (If not, submit a refund request by e-mail. Allow 6-8 weeks for delivery. Refund is not transferable. Restrictions may apply.)

I'm less than thrilled with the color and overall photo quality, which is probably why I didn't post it last June, but it's my understanding that all I have to do is tell you that I used an Instagram filter on it, and then you have to like it regardless.

Not really any Sheba news. There's been a lot of traveling in the last couple weeks, which is rough on her (she sometimes gets carsick), but she didn't actually get sick, so that was nice.

I've gotten a couple new plants in the process, neither of which is particularly interesting (Sansevieria trifasciata 'Jade Dwarf' and Ficus benjamina 'Starlite' are my guesses, though neither one was tagged with a cultivar name), but at least they were cheap ($5 and $3-something, respectively).

Sansevieria trifasciata NOID, possibly 'Jade Dwarf.'
A lot more money went toward large (12-14" / 30-36 cm) clay pots: many up-pottings have been on hold for several months because I needed a couple really big pots, so I could free up a few sorta big pots, which would free up some medium-sized pots, and so on.

Ficus benjamina NOID, probably 'Starlite.'
Also questionable judgment but at least not terribly expensive: I've been working on a couple new plant profiles at once, for the "book" or whatever it's going to turn out to be, and I had forgotten about the problem where when I'm writing a profile, I tend to convince myself to get more of whatever it is I'm writing about. Worse, the search results for certain plants will bring up seed-selling sites, and you know how I am about seeds. So on Thursday, I discovered that I'd ordered 100 mail-order Leuchtenbergia principis seeds in some kind of seed-purchasing blackout.

(I already have two Leuchtenbergia principis plants. I mean, I like them very much, but that was unnecessary. Fortunately, it should only set me back by $8.50, so I imagine I'll survive.)

I am now soliciting suggestions for what a person could do with 80 or 90 seedling Leuchtenbergia principis seedlings. (The prize for the best answer: an undetermined number of Leuchtenbergia principis seedlings.)

Unfinished business: various

One of these again.

The first bit of unfinished business that I should bring up is the announcement I hinted at last Monday. I am really, no fooling, finally in the process of writing a book, as of Wednesday night.

I am doing it entirely wrong, of course. I have no idea whether it will wind up being a book. I have no publishing deals. I've not even talked to any publishers since a couple years ago, nor are there any plans to do so soon. And I don't know whether it will ever be for sale as a self-published thing either. I also don't know how long it's going to take me to write or how long it will be. Basically, I have no idea what I'm doing at all. But the thing is: I have been intending to write something for a very, very long time now. You're surely tired of hearing me say this; I'm definitely tired of saying it. And I haven't been writing anything, all this time, because I've been trying to get everything lined up properly in advance. What do I write about? How shall I format it? Should I try to write a book proposal up for a real publisher, or plan on self-publishing? Etc.

As of Wednesday, I am officially no longer caring about any of that. Those are not fun things to think about, and I don't know how to make those decisions with the information I've got at the moment anyway. So I am going to write a thing, and then I will try to decide what to do with it after that. At this point, I'm only planning to do plant profiles, and I have twenty-one candidates.¹ Probably not all of those are going to happen, and others will turn into something else. Also I might well give up on the whole idea before finishing any of them, but: what little vision I have of the future is currently revolving around those twenty-one plant profiles. For whatever it's worth, I'm starting with Madonna.

I'll eventually set up a progress page or sidebar or something to let you know how it's going.

I do not know, at this point, whether this is going to affect blogging frequency or quality. The hope is kind of that writing the profiles -- which I always used to enjoy, however much I also complained about them -- might make me more excited about, and interested in, plants again, so you may not notice a difference.

And now some plant-related content.


Random plant event: Columnea orientandina (30 August 2012)

The near-perfect pentagon formed by the leaves of the Columneas wasn't planned; I didn't notice it until after I uploaded the photos.
A few of the Columnea orientandina seedlings I started last summer are still with us, though most aren't -- I transplanted twelve pots' worth of C. orientandina seedlings, I think, and only three of those still contain living plants. Eight of the remainder got too dry or too wet or both; one got thrown out because of scale.

I've started two additional rounds of seedlings since then, but the sprouts are so tiny and stringy when they first emerge that I'm scared to handle them. Consequently, I haven't transplanted them yet, and they're probably going to die before I can psych myself up to do it. In the future, I'm going to try starting them directly on soil, rather than trying to start them in vermiculite and then transfer them. If it works, then I don't have to worry about hurting them during transfer, and if it doesn't, well, there will be more seeds later.

Though it sort of doesn't matter anymore, since the seedlings in those three pots are large enough to take cuttings from. I don't have to start them from seeds if I don't want to.


Selling and Trading (30 April 2012)

For all intents and purposes, I won't be selling or trading plants in 2013. It's the whole scale-and-thrips business, mostly: the worst of that seems to be over, but I don't know if I've actually gotten them all. There are other reasons too (mailing plants is a big time drain; sometimes people are supposed to pay for their plants and then don't; I don't always know what I'm going to get when I agree to a trade), but not wanting to mail bugs to people is the main thing. And anyway, I supposedly have a new project now; see above.

Having said that, I'd now like to undercut it by saying that if you've seen a plant on PATSP that you're desperate to have, and you've checked the "Plants I've Tried" list and I'm still claiming to have one, feel free to e-mail and ask about it. (Especially if it's something I've talked about offering for sale in the past.) I'm not going to try to be all organized and official about selling and trading this year, but there are still a few plants I could send out, and maybe a few plants I'd be interested in bringing in, so we'll see what happens. If you're looking to trade, you should check out the "Plants I Want" page first, because there's a whole big list there at the bottom, of plants I am definitely not interested in, and checking that could save us both some time.


Somewhat last-minute grab bag (3 April 2012)

The Philodendron bipinnatifidum sucker is still there. Not growing very quickly, but still there, and the parent plant keeps getting bigger (very slowly), so I guess it didn't signify anything bad.

The poor plant has been terribly, terribly abused, so it's a wonder it's even still alive, never mind growing and self-propagating and all that.

Euphorbia milii 'Candyland' eventually succumbed to the Euphorbia-ravaging fungus. The leaves kept fuzzing over. I pulled them off, but it kept happening. I tried spraying with various things. It kept happening. Finally, in frustration, I cut the top off the stupid thing. The theory was that if there weren't any leaves to infect, the fungus would give up and go home. Instead, the plant got upset about being beheaded, and rotted, and I wound up throwing it out anyway. Oh well.


Unfinished business: various (6 March 2012)

The Excoecaria cochinchinensis lasted until February 2013, so not quite a year. It wasn't dead, and I didn't have a strong recurrence of spider mites (there were occasional small infestations), but it had dropped a lot of leaves, it wasn't replacing them quickly, and it had gotten floppy in a way that was inconvenient. I could have let it stay if it had continued to be pretty, but it wasn't even doing that, and this was during the spell when I was trying to get rid of a bunch of plants I didn't like anymore, so out it went.

The Hatiora with magenta flowers is still around, but it obviously hates it here. Only two of the original four salvaged pots are still around, and one of those just shattered because I moved it up to a bigger pot. Also it's never rebloomed, though that's probably because it's in the basement, where the days are always too long for it to set buds.

The Ananas lucidus is still doing nicely. Here it is in March 2013:

Random plant event: Crassula perfoliata var. falcata (5 March 2012)

And now I'm like 0 for a billion, on Crassulas. This was the one Crassula that was halfway working for me, but then I had to move it out of the south window because it got too big, which it didn't like. Then in the late fall I dropped it, or something fell on it, or something like that, and the main stem broke off. The remaining branches grew for a little while after that, but since they weren't getting the same amount of sun, and the plant was taking up water more slowly (both because there was suddenly a lot less plant there and because it was colder), they eventually wound up rotting. So I'm just done done done done done with Crassulas. They have nice qualities, but they're not well-suited to what I can do here.

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¹ The "people:"
Juliet Capulet • Little Brother • Drag Queen • Patient Zero • Sinead O'Connor • Night Owl • Character Actor • Madonna • Lab Assistant • Stunt Double • Wanker • Fish Out of Water • Understudy • Michelle Rodriguez • Real Estate Developer • Joan Jett • Rosemary's Baby • Labor and Management • Stick in the Mud • Yayoi Kusama
I'd list the plants that go with those, but at the moment, I'm thinking I'd rather not give too much away in advance. Even if I gave you a random-order list of the plants involved, some of them are obvious enough that you'd be able to figure them out, ruining the surprise anyway. So for right now, I'm not going to say which plants, other than to note that two of them are plants I've already written profiles about, but I think I can improve on those so I'm going to attempt to write them again.

The View From Barnes & Noble

So, for Christmas, my sister-in-law gave my husband and me each a $25 gift card to Barnes & Noble. I haven't been a habitual Barnes & Noble shopper since . . . well, actually, I'm not sure I've ever been a habitual Barnes & Noble shopper, now that I think about it. Whenever I go into any of the large bookstore chains -- and we're talking about, like, in the last 20 years or so -- I find myself unable to find anything to be interested in. Not that I don't sometimes buy things anyway; it's just that when I do, odds are that I've grabbed it more or less at random because I want to get out of the store, and I have no idea if it's a book I'm going to like. Often, it turns out that I don't, and then I feel bad for wasting the money on a book I don't like, which is why I'm not in the habit of shopping at Barnes & Noble.¹

The point being that it'd been a long time since I was in a position to check out the gardening section of a large bookstore, and, as there has been some recent talk about book-writing, I figured this would be an excellent chance to check out the situation on the ground, as it were.

And the situation on the ground is this:




Ten shelves of gardening books, each roughly three or four feet long (0.9-1.2 m). So go ahead, open 'em in a separate tab and find the indoor plant books. I'll wait.

No, really. There are two in there. Take your time.

Give up?


The shelves in the other photo have none at all.

To make this all slightly worse, the book on the lower shelf, The Indoor Plant Bible, is spiral-bound. It doesn't look like it in the photo, because there's like a plastic spine attached to the loops to make it look more substantial, but if you open it up, the pages are threaded onto wire loops. It's heavier paper stock than usual, but still -- how long is something like that really going to last a person?

The other book, The Complete Houseplant Survival Manual, is better, or at least isn't constructed so as to fall apart the tenth time you pick it up, but still. Only two houseplant books. (And I actually didn't realize The Complete Houseplant Survival Manual was there until I got home and was looking through the photos.)² Even the people who want to grow marijuana have more options on the Barnes & Noble bookshelves, by like, a 2-to-1 margin. (Which, hey, I'm not judging, and I recognize that however illegal growing marijuana might be in the state of Iowa, reading a book about growing marijuana is still legal. I am nevertheless still surprised at the amount of shelf space devoted to an activity no customer could legally do.)

There are two basic emotional responses an aspiring writer of houseplant books can have to a situation like this, and I have been having both of them. The glass-half-empty response is to conclude that Barnes & Noble doesn't believe that books about houseplants sell well enough to devote any shelf space to them, which goes along with what I've been told elsewhere. The glass-half-full response is to notice the almost total lack of competition and conclude that if I could just get a book published, I could have the whole topic almost completely to myself. My brain has synthesized the two responses into the uninspiring conclusion that if I tried really hard and approached the right people in the right ways, over a long enough period of time, I could totally be the biggest, most important authority on a topic about which nobody gives a shit. Which is sort of how I've felt in the garden-blogging community already, so I suppose I could get used to it easily enough.

As for the gift card, I did wind up buying something plant-related from these shelves, though doing so also required the husband's card.³ I'll review it relatively soon (the tentative plan is to post it on 26 January), but I'm not going to tell you which book right now.

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¹ One of the stranger examples of this is Off Camera: Private Thoughts Made Public, Ted Koppel's memoir. In hardback, no less. I read it once, have no memory of anything in it, and have packed and unpacked it through three moves now even though I know I have no interest in reading it again. But it seemed like a good idea in the store, apparently.
Nothing against Ted Koppel, by the way. He seems like a decent enough guy.
² It's also probably true that the two (?) books on orchids are primarily written to people who are trying to grow them indoors, and therefore sort of qualify as houseplant books. Likewise, some of the container-gardening and herb-gardening books (So many herb-gardening books! Whyyyyyyy?) probably at least address overwintering plants in the house, if not growing them indoors year-round, and as such might almost count as houseplant books. There are also a couple books about succulents, which it's not clear just from looking at the books' spines whether they might cover indoor culture or not, but one might give the benefit of the doubt and say that those could also qualify as houseplant books, On the other hand, looking at books about orchids, container gardening, herb gardening, or succulents is not going to help you if you have questions about why your peace lily is going black at the leaf tips,^a so those other books only count for just so much.
     ^a (It's too wet, most likely. You're welcome.)
³ (He volunteered his card before we even left the house, so it's not like I was preventing him from getting something he really wanted, just FYI.)

On Expectations (What Just Happened)

Ahem.

So I said I would try to explain my 4-week absence from PATSP at some point. I realize I don't have to, but I wanted to, because I felt like I was failing to hold up my end of the agreement I think we have as blogger and audience. (We may not actually have an agreement like that, but it feels to me like we do.) Also I've been thinking about these things a lot -- rather more than I'd like, actually -- so this might be the only thing I can talk about anyway.

My understanding of our agreement is basically that I will try to provide something for you to read and/or look at, which relates to plants, on a nearly-daily basis, and in exchange, you agree to read and/or look at it, and attempt to find it interesting even if it's really not, occasionally providing feedback from which I gain egoboo, learn stuff, or whatever. So what got in the way from late November to early January? Four things:

Oh yeah. Since I had orchid posts scheduled for the days when I wasn't posting, and I didn't bother to write the posts, I have a backlog, so the illustrations for this post will be leftover orchids. This way even the people who don't give a fuck about why I stopped posting will still get some entertainment. First up is Phragmipedium besseae, which looks quite a bit like it did last time we saw it.
1. Blogging: Possibly Not Actually a Career?

The most serious of the four reasons is that although I didn't begin blogging with the idea that I would make money from it, that idea developed over time, as I 1) saw what other people were managing to do with their blogs and 2) quit the garden center job and had no money coming in anymore.¹ Which hasn't worked out the way I'd thought.

I've tried things, kind of haphazardly. Blog ads went fine until Google decided that they didn't have to pay me. Plant selling would have worked fine for a little extra money if I hadn't also been permitting trades -- as it actually played out, most of the profit I made from selling plants was immediately used to pay shipping for plants I was trading, and there was very little net benefit. (I'm not saying that's a terrible thing -- I got several great plants out of it -- but it wasn't what I'd hoped for.) Running sponsored posts didn't happen because 1) almost nobody was interested and 2) it just felt wrong. Getting free stuff to review did work out okay a couple times, but even if there had been more interest, that's a way to accumulate stuff, not a way to make money. (Also what I really wanted to review was plants, and nobody sent any of those. Or offered.)

The only thing that's worked at all, really, is asking for donations with the PayPal button: I've gotten about $300 since I put that up a year ago, most of it in the first four months after I put it up, and most of it from two particularly generous people. Which is good, considering that I'm asking people I've never met to give me money, and then they do, but $300/yr also isn't anything like a liveable income. Not that I'm owed a liveable income. I know. But still. As ways of turning the blog into something careery, asking for donations hasn't worked out either.²

Now okay. I didn't pursue any of these opportunities as aggressively as I could have, and it could be argued that however much work blog-writing might take, it's unreasonable of me to do it with the expectation that money's just going to fall into my lap. But whatever. The point is that I was feeling frustrated, around early fall, with how the plan to treat blogging like a job until it became a job was working out. And the only idea that I hadn't really tried yet was writing a book.

I'd already gotten a couple inquiries about writing a book, from real actual publishers with websites and reputations and everything. The first (fall 2010) would have let me write more or less the book I wanted to write,³ but eventually turned me down, because s/he talked to his/r marketing department and was told that people don't, you know, actually buy books about houseplants. At least they don't in large enough numbers to justify publishing one from me.

Which is okay. I mean, it didn't do much for my (already low) opinion of marketers, but at least there was an actual, fairly straightforward reason why it wasn't going to happen, and s/he had given me plenty of information about how the business works, so I figure I wound up ahead regardless.

The second (early-/mid-winter 2011) publisher basically had a book already in mind, and were just shopping around for someone to write it. I would have pursued this one harder had the book in question sounded like something I'd be interested in, but their idea⁴ sounded like the same houseplant book I've seen five hundred times already (the one nobody buys), and although I talked to someone about other ways the book might go, something more like what I'd been talking about with the first publisher, they didn't seem that interested in changing the concept, so I let that opportunity go. This was perhaps a mistake on my part, but it made sense at the time.

So but anyway. Everything else having more or less failed by the end of this summer, I started thinking about book-writing as a route to fame, fortune, and groupies again, and wound up talking to a couple other bloggers via e-mail about book-writing, and convinced myself in the process that: although writing a book would be easy, the subsequent promotion would likely all but kill me, so there wasn't any point to trying.⁵

So to sum up: the justification for the blog had increasingly become someday I'll be able to make money off of this, so I should keep doing it until something happens that causes money. Book-writing was the last idea I had for how to make that happen, so when I decided it wasn't going to be workable either, my motivation to continue took a huge hit. It's not like I especially wanted to stop blogging, necessarily, but at the very least I would need a new motivation.

Sophrolaeliocattleya Hermann Pigors.

And again.
2. Blogging is Frequently a Chore

(This is the reason why I thought I was taking a break, when I was taking the break. It's not untrue, but it wasn't the whole story.)

Blogging has always been, to some degree or another, a chore for me. That's not to say that I've always hated it, or that I ever hated it, just to note that it's something that I tried to do every day, along with brushing my teeth and taking Sheba out,⁶ and some days I didn't really want to. So, sometimes, I got stuck trying to throw a post together right before bed because I hadn't done one, which was occasionally stressful and unpleasant, but 1) there are worse things, 2) sometimes the thrown-together posts were inexplicably popular, or turned out in ways that pleased me, and 3) we have the unspoken agreement where I'm supposed to find you stuff to look at. Usually I was happy enough with what I'd gotten posted, so if there was occasionally a post that didn't quite meet my standards, well, nobody expects perfection.

But sometimes one does want to take some time off and flake out, also, especially coming on the heels of the Rumble Among the Jungle, when I'd been posting almost twice a day for a few weeks.⁷

That's pretty much all there is to this one. I mean, I think I need a vacation is a pretty broadly recognizable feeling.

Paphiopedilum Hsinying Rubywet '#13' x Paph. callosum '#1.'
3. The Internet is Full of Unpleasantness. (And Cat Pictures, for Some Reason.)

I don't have much in the way of money or power, but do have depressive tendencies, yet I read a lot of news. Bad combination. I kind of can't help it, though -- I feel sort of obliged to know what's going on, as a citizen -- so I visit a fair number of political/newsy blogs.

And I should totally stop. Especially going into an election year, I should stop, 'cause it's only going to get worse after the Iowa Caucuses on Tuesday, and it's not like I don't know who I'm going to vote for already. But it's hard to stop. I get bored or frustrated with whatever I'm writing, I wander around the net, and I wind up hearing about all kinds of people doing all kinds of awful things to all kinds of other people, or planning to, or just being dumbasses, and I get upset / frustrated / fearful / whatever.

One of the nicest things about going on a Sims⁸ binge is that the way things are set up here, I can't go on-line and play Sims simultaneously, so the more Sims I play, the less I know about what's going on in the real world. I mean, a few things slip through anyway, but it's much more manageable. Whereas when I'm working on the blog, I have to be on-line in order to post, and it's very easy to be exposed to some news accidentally. Then, suddenly I know even more stuff to make me hate humanity in general (Here is one of the hundreds of possible examples.), and have nowhere I can go, nothing I can do, except, you know, just . . . sit there. And hate humanity.

Which is definitely unhelpful for me; it has not, so far, had much effect on humanity.

In mid/late November, when I started the hiatus, the main news story was the unnecessary pepper-spraying of the UC Davis students by the cop, and I'd been hearing about various police abuses for weeks before this, in connection with Occupy Wall Street and its related protests. Which was all sort of distressing. Not having to hear any more about that seemed like a really good idea.

Dendrobium smilliae 'Lea' x Sib.
4. Am I Even the Person You Want to be Consulting About Houseplants in the First Place?

And then there was the Gardenia person.

Someone going by the handle "omnomnomsies" showed up on the Gardenia jasminoides profile in early November this year, with a five-steps-to-Gardenia-success checklist. Which is great, I guess. I mean, I have no reason to think that their advice is bad advice.⁹

The problematic part is what they said after the advice, which was

The above might sound complicated but it really isn't. It is the way nearly every indoor plant should be cared for. There might be minor differences in desired pH but gardenias are no more difficult to care for than any other plant. Control insects, fertigate properly, plant in appropriate soil, win.

Which I had a problem with, especially the first sentence. After mandating: a soil mix that most people would likely have to mix for themselves, adjusting the pH of the water one uses with every watering, plus mixing in fertilizer, a runoff basin for excess water, supplemental lighting, lacewing eggs to take care of pests, and possibly even an insect feeder, to feed the adult lacewings so they'll lay more eggs, plus "for lacewings to be successful one must also control ants --" after all that -- it "might sound complicated but it really isn't."

Seriously? 'Cause that sounds pretty goddamned complicated.

And the conversation kind of devolved from there. Omnomnomsies has a problem with me calling Gardenias exceptionally difficult, his/r reasoning apparently being that if you do all of the above, Gardenias will grow nicely for you, and doing all the above works for all other plants as well, therefore Gardenias are merely just as difficult as everything else. Which I think shows a peculiar understanding of the word "difficult." If you manage the light, temperature, water chemistry, insect population, soil structure, and every other aspect of your plants' existence to replicate ideal tropical conditions, then yes, you will probably find tropical plants a breeze to grow. But A) most people don't want to go to that much trouble (myself included), and B) there are plants that don't demand that much trouble.

The point of the difficulty scale -- which is only ever supposed to be sort of a rough guide in the first place, bear in mind -- is to point out that some plants are going to require more extensive rearrangement of your home than others, and the number is an attempt to quantify the degree of rearrangement necessary, and/or how narrow the acceptable range of conditions actually is for each plant. Then omnomnomsies was all like,

Your test seems to be: can I take it off the s[h]elf and grow it in a pot? My answer to that will always be: no. You might think the plant is doing ok but it almost certainly isn't living up to its potential unless you've gotten very lucky and picked a plant that meets the pH of your water and every other aspect of culture.

Oh.

.

Wait. WHAT? That's the standard we're supposed to be working toward? 'Cause if full genetic potential is the yardstick we're using here, then I've never grown a houseplant successfully, and neither, probably, has omnomnomsies or most of you.

And no lie, that whole conversation really threw me, for quite a while. 'Cause the idea that some people would consider a plant a success only if it managed to reach its full programmed potential just wouldn't compute.¹⁰ And yet people do think this way. I ran into someone at Garden Web expressing basically the same sentiment while the conversation with omnomnomsies was going on.

So then for a while whenever I was watering -- which is all the time, because I'm always watering -- I'd have fleeting thoughts comparing whatever plants were in the tub to what they could have been, if only I cared enough to grow them properly. Imagine that for one plant, multiply by 880 or so, and you can see how this might not be the best state of mind in which to go a-blogging. Add to this that some plants actually died while I was taking the blog break,¹¹ and I started to question whether I had any business writing about houseplants at all.

I got over it, at least partly. (If I think my plants are doing okay, then they're doing okay, whether they're growing according to their full potential or not. I'm the one who's responsible for caring for them, so I'm the one they have to please, and everybody else can fuck off. Damn it.) But there was still a bit of a crisis there, for a little while, anyway.

Ascocenda Sweet Pea 'Ruby.'
5. So Whither PATSP?

None of the above issues have actually been resolved, of course.

I still don't know what my motivation for continuing the blog is to be, exactly. Blogging will continue to take time I might prefer to use for other things. I'm nearer burnout on Sims than I was, but I haven't burned out yet.¹² The internet is still full of assholes and news about assholes. My plants still sometimes die, and those that live fail to grow to their full potential.

Nevertheless . . . it feels like time to return to blogging. I think. So . . . I'm going to try doing that again? Probably not daily, especially not at first? And we'll see?

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¹ The husband's income keeps the lights on, more or less, but the budget is still tight, and things do happen. Plus anything plant-related, obviously, comes out of my money. It's more complicated than that, but that's the gist.
² Also please don't donate right now. If you do, then I'll assume it was because I made you feel guilty with this post, and that will make me feel guilty because, after all, this whole post is about how I've failed in my sort-of-kind-of-but-not-really obligation, to provide you with semi-diverting plant-related stuff on a regular basis, so it'd get dumb pretty quick -- me feeling guilty about making you feel guilty because of my post about how I feel guilty. So rather than put me through that, how about waiting a while to see if I'm even going to resume regular posting before you donate?
If you're going to donate at all.
Which you totally don't have to.
I now feel bad about having planted the idea.
Though not bad enough to delete it.
I'm serious about the don't-donate-now stuff, though.
³ Something resembling a collection of plant profiles, though they wouldn't be the same plant profiles that had appeared on the blog, because publishers aren't interested in republishing stuff that's on-line for free already. So if I profiled a plant for the book that I'd already written about for the blog, I'd have to come up with a whole new angle for talking about it. This wasn't a problem for me, since I am kind of itching for an excuse to re-write some of the profiles anyway, especially the older ones.
⁴ Something along the lines of "Impossible to Kill Houseplants." Which, taken literally, might have actually been interesting: I don't know anything about the people who design and manufacture artificial plants, and learning could be fun. Alas, they meant peace lilies and jade plants, etc. Not only are they mostly not plants I care about and want to spend a lot of time contemplating, but they are also -- as is sadly typical for living things -- totally killable.
⁵ During the break, a few people e-mailed to ask whether I was okay, and I was like, yeah, yeah, I'm fine, just want to play Sims and get away from the responsibility of the blog for a while, no big deal, but re-reading this post makes me think there was likely a depressive episode happening, if a pretty minor, low-level one. They don't always feel like depressions when they're going on (I know, that doesn't make any sense. It's hard to explain.), and the bupropion makes them less frequent and less severe, so it would have been easy to miss. This is especially likely in light of reason #3, which has been a fairly common feature of depressions in the past, and which we'll get to.
⁶ Though I found that it didn't work to try to do all three at the same time.
⁷ I'd like to point out, too, that according to the official tally in the sidebar, I put up 387 posts in 2011, only one less than in 2010, so you still got more than one per day, over the year as a whole. If you choose to look at it that way. Which if I were you, I wouldn't look at it that way. But you still could.
⁸ Technically Sims 2; I have the original, but haven't played it in years because 2 is far superior. I am aware of Sims 3 but haven't tried to buy it; it's pricey, and I don't know that I have a computer capable of running it anyway. What I've heard so far makes it sound like Sims 3 is essentially the same as Sims 2 anyway, as far as the stuff I find interesting about the Sims games.
⁹ You can read it at the original comment if you're interested, but my paraphrase would be: well-draining soil, hand-adjust water pH with vinegar before watering, feed with every watering, place near window, add supplemental artificial light on a timer, buy green lacewing eggs on cards annually when the plant comes in for the winter to keep pests under control. Nothing particularly controversial or unprecedented; I already do all those except the pH and lacewing things.
¹⁰ Among other things: why on earth try to grow plants indoors at all, then, if that's your objective?
¹¹ Some plants are always dying here, both because I have a tendency to declare them official plants too early and because I hang on to plants long after it's become clear that they're never going to do well for me. But, between November 22, when I started the hiatus, and December 23, when I'm writing this part, I lost:
• 2 Saxifraga stoloniferas, which have all been having a rough time over the last six months or so and I don't know why,
• 9 Abutilon seedlings (underwatered, and also I was just tired of them and their neediness so I let them die when I noticed they were wilty, rather than trying to save them),
• my original Pelargonium 'Mrs. Pollock' (A pair of cuttings I took from the plant have survived. I suspect the original plant failed because I took cuttings from it.),
• an Astrophytum myriostigma (which rotted and hollowed out: this was particularly painful because it was a gift from a reader who sent it to me because s/he felt like the plant wanted to come live with me. If this was ever the case, then it obviously changed its mind. I was also especially bummed out by this one because I thought I'd figured A. myriostigma out: the previous one, I thought, I'd lost because I watered when it was also cold. So this specimen, I stopped watering in like October, and the plant room has yet to get seriously cold this year. But no. Still dead. Don't think I'll be trying A. myriostigma again.),
• Kalanchoe prolifera (another example of a plant that didn't survive being cut back),
• Dendrobium 'Karen,' which hadn't been doing very well for a long time (Orchids can Suck. My. Balls. I'm not going to throw away the ones I've got until they die of their own accord -- and they will -- but I think I'm done buying more, ever.),
• 2 huge hanging baskets of Plectranthus verticillatus (not sure about the cause, but I suspect it's temperature-related: they were in a spot that's normally cold, but which is also indirectly in the path of a heat vent, so probably one or the other killed them),
• a Davallia tyermanii I started from rhizome cuttings (probably a watering/soil problem, but I don't know if it was too wet or too dry; 2 other Davallias are currently in the process of dying on me, in a similar fashion, but I have no idea why or how to respond.), and
• an Aloe 'Doran Black' offset which rooted and grew last winter but was clearly unhappy all summer and fall this year -- it died when I tried to pull off a dead leaf and snapped the stem instead.
¹² I like building the buildings. I mean, the whole business with sending Sims to work and having them make friends and buy things and what have you is sometimes mildly diverting, but the only reason I bother with those things is so they'll have enough money to build larger/cooler/weirder houses: for some reason I prefer the way houses turn out if I've slowly grown them by adding bits here and there, as opposed to the way they turn out when I start with a plan and don't worry about cost. I particularly like making buildings that look abandoned and filthy. Don't know why.