Native Plants

I did not inherit my Mother’s love of gardening or horticulture. I appreciate it, but I don’t “do” it. I have long demonstrated more of a black thumb than a green thumb. I consider it a minor miracle that I now have 2 orchids with brand new bud stems emerging. This is a significant improvement over the orchid graveyard my hired organizer gently encouraged me to “let go” of while cleaning off our kitchen counters.

But I do appreciate plants. I can’t help it. If you ever wandered a garden with my mother you know that her enthusiasm was contagious. It was embarrassing at first, but then contagious. I will always treasure the memories I have from her visits to Duke when she browsed rose varietals in the gorgeous Duke gardens and then later, snatched more than a few seed pods from the plants in the Biltmore Estate’s gardens.

So it is perhaps her spirit guiding me along as I walk our dog every morning and appreciate the changes in our neighborhood gardens. The plants here in New Orleans are so different from what I grew up with in Texas. From ferns and palms and citrus to the trees - we are in a different subtropical zone. I relish these differences. Camelias for example. They bud in the fall and are just now blooming as we approach the holiday season. Making fall not so much about leaf colors (they go from green to dead to green here - no oranges or reds) but about gorgeous pink blooms.

But my favorite New Orleans plant discovery doesn’t bloom. They are called Resurrection Ferns. You have likely seen them if you’ve seen pictures of New Orleans’ famed old oak trees. Covering the ancient bowed branches and skirting their trunks, these ferns go brown when it hasn’t rained. They look completely dead. But check back a few hours after an afternoon rain shower and they have completely come back to life. Along our morning walk, Ledoux and I witness this cycle on a regular basis: death to life and back again. It’s profound. It’s ripe for metaphorical application. It’s a little horticulture magic that I know my mother would love.