They say you learn something new every day, right? So here’s the new thing you learned today: The oldest currently living houseplant on record is a 243-year-old Eastern Cape cycad.
And I thought my plant was old. I say “plant,” singular, because I have only one houseplant. This is due to the fact that I have killed every other plant that has had the misfortune of coming under my domain. Seriously, every single one. Well, nearly. One stubborn little aloe plant remains steadfast on my kitchen windowsill. It refuses to wither up and die, but I’m pretty sure it’s on its way out.
I’m obviously no expert, but I don’t think aloe is meant to be a cascading plant.
Then there is this guy. My houseplant.
I’m not even sure what kind of plant he is. But he is obviously a hardy sort. He is roughly 46 years old. I know this because my parents received him for a wedding present, and they will be married 46 years come September.
He has been divided and repotted. He has been moved. He has been left without water for weeks at a time. My parents have the original plant. Or maybe I do. He has been shuffled around so much that it’s hard to say.
I have had a piece of the plant since college. In college, one of my roommates fed him coffee. Come to think of it, I’m sure worse liquids fouled his soil when we lived in that old apartment off of Langdon Street. Yet he survived. He is a survivor, much like Logan the fish. Yes, Logan lives on.
I never named my plant. But I refer to him as a dude – it’s either that or he’s the most low-maintenance female on the planet. Actually, I like “Dude.” That’s a fantastic plant name if I’ve ever heard one. Done.
In any event, my parents’ incarnation of the plant looks a little, well, let’s be honest, healthier than Dude. They probably even water theirs.
They recently left me in charge of it when they migrated to Florida for the winter. Arguably not their smartest move. (Leaving me in charge, I mean. Going to Florida was quite intelligent.) But their plant probably won’t die on my watch. This is good, because the standing joke was that my parents’ marriage would end the day the plant died. At least, I think it was a joke. If not, talk about pressure! “Here, water my plant, and while you’re at it, keep my marriage alive.” Let’s hope that their plant is as hardy as Dude.
Dude reminds me that some things just continue on. They persevere. He’s a good role model in that way. And there is something comforting about him. I mean, if Dude can survive me, surely I can survive anything!
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Do you have an older-than-average houseplant? And how do you take care of it? Do you talk to it? Fertilize it? At least water it semi-regularly? If so, you probably have some tips for me.