The Art of Propagation
I am not much of a gardener.
Indeed, just last weekend, I almost ripped out a row of something-whose-name-I-have-forgotten thinking it was a weed, but was informed by a neighbour that it will soon come into flower.
He also pointed out that the “bed of dull crap” (my phrase) was in fact a small herb garden and most of the stuff I could use in my cooking. Why I would add rosemary to a perfectly good frozen Dr Oetker pizza is beyond me, but maybe I’ll give it a go.
My point is that despite parents and grandparents who were also good at this kind of thing, very little has rubbed off on me. However, I am touting these small spider plants as a massive success as they are the result of propagation, something which I extensively researched the method for and having failed to understand any of the answers, I asked my mum.
These two were borne of the mother spider plant (let’s call her Tarantula) and they (let’s call the larger one “Tarantino” and the smaller one “Tarantina”), whilst still attached to the umbilical cord, were delicately potted in their own little cauldrons of safety for a couple of days before I cut the cord* on them and now look at them! Thriving! By my hand! Move over Percy Throwup, Alan Titsmarsh and Donty Mon, there’s a new green fingered sheriff in town.
I can see why people like gardening. It’s so much easier than parenting, despite the similarities
between feeding, watering and nurturing something you love only to receive NOTHING IN RETURN!!
I seem to have lost my train of thought…..
*I didn’t even do that for my own children, because a) it would have been super gross and b) I probably would have done it wrong.