Ferns

We’re in the boring part of January where the weather is starting to stabilize and even get a bit better, so I’m eager to start planting. Forrest spends most of January and half of February shaking his head at me, telling me it’s too early to start seeds inside, the ground is workable but a frost could still come, and one sunny day does not make it spring. That’s the problem of living in Seattle. There isn’t much difference between February and May, so it’s easy to mistake one for the other.

Nevertheless, I will turn to houseplants for inspiration. Which means I must be really desperate because everyone knows that my house is the place where plants come to die. I have killed more houseplants that I can count, and even now, on my counter there is a dead bromeliad, a jade plant with one sad stubby stalk, and the world’s hardiest spider plant. It’s frankly embarassing.

I forget to water them. Or I water them too much. I don’t clean my windows so the sun is not great. The cat gets up there and eats whatever she can. Outside, plants seem to love me. Inside? Not so much.

Except.

Except.

The fern in my bathroom.

We redid our bathroom about 5 years ago to get rid of some water damage and dry rot. I did it up nice and at the time, I wanted something that would accent the teal and white theme. So I got a Boston Fern. My thought was - it’s humid in the bathroom, so I won’t have to worry about watering. It’s dim in there, but ferns are good with shade. And most of all, I’ve killed a lot more expensive plants, so how much could it hurt?

And that fern is so happy. I don’t know if my kids secretly water it or if my “humidity” plan is working, but it has outlived my greatest expectations. It makes me so happy. There is just something soothing about a well-grown houseplant, isn’t there?

And ferns are one of my favorites. They’re hardy and bushy and green, and I do absolutely no upkeep for it, so they must be low maintenance. Around here, ferns grow in every spot they can find, so I think my bathroom fern gives off a little Northwest-y vibe.

But that fern is perhaps overinflating my sense of competence. Yesterday, I told my daughter that since apparently our bathroom is so wonderful for ferns, we could step it up to an orchid next time we’re at the garden store. I think she’s still laughing.