What plants and their personalities teach us

You may not understand the petunias, but can you respect them?

Originally published in Change Your Mind-Change Your Life

Last September, I unshackled myself from my computer, left my job as a communications professional, and set out to write for myself, on my terms.

It’s been a slow process that yields slow results. Kind of like watching plants grow. So it seemed only fitting to take on a seasonal job in a local greenhouse. Why not spend a few hours a week in the cheeriest place around?

Most days, I found the planting and watering tasks to be meditative, and like the budding life forms under my care, my creativity germinated as I played in the dirt. Ideas bounced in my head like water droplets on leaves, until I came home and downloaded them onto my blog.

As I roamed the aisles bursting with color, I came to appreciate the beauty that came from every variety living together in unity. As I began working with the plants individually, I discovered their uniqueness.

They reminded me of people. One day, fully aware that I was being judgmental, I began stereotyping the plants. Later, I tried to observe my prejudices and look for the merits that each plant brought to the greenhouse.

(Insert eye roll) Here come the petunias

I don’t like petunias.

I initially saw them as incorrigibly positive. They will continually bloom, even when you hack away at them. Mow them down, be ruthless with them, and they’ll still return, pretty and as disgustingly positive as ever. I can almost hear them squeaking with exuberance as I mow them down, “Isn’t today great? Ouch! That’s okay … still great.”

I found this revolting. Somebody is always coming by with a pair of scissors and just when you’ve got your prettiest blooms out there, they get hacked away. Cut off because you’re going to get all leggy again, and we can’t have that.

Seems they’re getting beat down at every turn, yet staying positive and happy nonetheless. Cut down their blooms and they’ll still be out there fighting. Before long, they’ll take their sunny disposition outward and away from the pot, only to be wrangled in yet again.

As I trimmed the petunias, in all their sticky glory, I started to see them in a completely different light.

They get a lot of attention because they command attention.

They’re in the front of the greenhouse and their pretty faces get snapped up by unsuspecting people naïve to their messy behaviors.

I didn’t realize you had to be so rough with them. Until I worked in the greenhouse, I handled them with kid gloves, lovingly and endlessly picking off their spent blooms in the exact right place.

This made them even needier. The more attention you pay to them, the more they demanded.

While I suppose I can admire their indestructible spirit, I do wonder why they put up with it. And I don’t much care for grandiosity either. No wonder I never liked these flowers.

Other stereotypes I’ve assigned:

Marigolds remind me of sorority girls – all pretty much the same color and very uniform. Lots of them in a tight bunch all the time. I’ve never much paid attention to marigolds. I don’t like yellow and orange. And I was never a sorority girl so I guess I can’t relate. But they do band together and protect their clan from other critters that don’t play nice in the garden, so there’s that.

Gerbera daisies are divas. They’re picky about their temperature, how well-drained their soil is. They will only give you their best side after much primping. I’ve never been able to keep a gerbera daisy in bloom. Kind of like when I do my nails once a millennium. Once they’re gone, they’re gone.

I admire dahlias. Dahlias are unapologetic and authentic. They stand tall and are bold. They watch over the other flowers in the pot without encroaching on them. They let the others do their thing. They are leaders.

Impatiens will manage and even thrive in conditions that are less than sunny. Harsh elements make them wilt and they’ll cry out for help. Help them a little and they’ll be your best friend. They wear their heart on their sleeve, impatiens do. You can leave them alone to do their thing. Just don’t treat them too badly.

Begonias are people pleasers but not in an impish sort of way. They play nice with others. They prefer the shade but won’t hesitate to take their opportunity to shine. You can add one to just about any collection of anything and they’ll show off their best features while complimenting the others, too.

I think coleus sets a good example. There are so many different colors and they look great all together. The more colors and varieties that are packed together, the better. This is their strength. They ought to be a symbol of diversity.

Try this. It’s fun. Assign a flower to yourself or a person you know.

I am an impatien who aspires to be a begonia or a dahlia. In the meantime, I’m trying out being a geranium.

Geraniums quietly shed their leaves from the bottom as if to not disturb the growth and the parts that are already good and strong. They quietly shed what isn’t serving them anymore. Their bottom leaves collapse and fade under new growth. The spent blooms must be quickly truncated as they are unsightly. Their new growth rises slowly. You can see their anticipation and excitement with being the center of attention, patiently growing towards their time in the sun.

My husband is a succulent or a fern. He doesn’t need much to survive and be happy. There’s a place for him in most assortments and he’s happy to just do his part.

My daughter is a portulaca. This flower is tidy and stays low to the ground. Its blooms open and close with the conditions. Like a portulaca, she keeps her circle tight, leaves her comfort zone only after much thought and planning, and retreats to the comfort of home when feeling threatened.

My other daughter, although she is a sorority girl, isn’t a marigold in my book. She’s like the creeping jenny accent plant that I place into just about every arrangement I plant. It is its own perfect bright shade of green that stands out and yet finds a place in every group, gently moving and showing its color through the other leaves. It’s perky and constantly on the move, but in a good way, not an invasive way, like the ivy.

A lesson in diversity

The bottom line: What makes the greenhouse beautiful is its array of colors, shapes, textures, and personalities.

A great greenhouse is diverse. Its beauty comes out when its many colors and styles are looked at all together as one. Every one of their personalities and strengths can complement the group when used appropriately.

I for one could use a little petunia positivity whilst getting hacked at. Also like the petunias, if you want to have your time in the sun, well, you might just have to take it.

There’s a place for every one of our unique contributions. Even petunias.