Read by Matilda Longbottom

Our porch is now enclosed with windows to keep the rain, wind, and eventual snow out. This also gives my flowers one more month of normal moisture and warmth – if the sun cooperates. The maidenhair fern seems happy, and so do two leftover geraniums. The latter are holding onto their flower heads with amazing determination.

I keep two spider plants hanging from the porch roof during the Summer. Since they are rather tender-hearted towards cold weather, I move one of them closer to the kitchen window and bring the other one inside the kitchen. It settles nicely into the indoor atmosphere, sitting on a window sill, looking out onto the porch. It is happy, or so I thought.

After a few weeks, I notice that the leaves of the outdoor spider plant have stretched long towards the kitchen window. Its indoor buddy’s leaves seem to be short facing the kitchen table while the bunch looking out towards the porch are practically crawling up the windowpane. What is going on here? Do they miss each other? I know that certain plants and flowers like rubbing shoulders – eh, stems – and encourage each other, maybe even asking, “Like to share my flower pot?” But some barely tolerate other species and declare war on the ones they see as intruders into their territory. They sap their strength or overwhelm them with their own growth. Something like green medieval warfare.

I ask my spider plants, “What’s your problem?” Since I’m not very good at understanding their language, I can’t be sure of their reaction. It looks like they are shaking their offshoots at me as if to say, “What do we have to do to make you understand? Maybe a few yellow leaves will do the trick.”

And it does. Not only yellow but dark brown and brittle. Well, who am I to say that love doesn’t exist in the garden? To avoid total heartbreak, I put the indoor plant back on the porch table and place the other one next to it. It looks like they will rather endure colder temperatures and the patter of rain on the roof than being apart. I swear I see them reaching out to each other with their long offshoots. Maybe they wrap them around each other during the night to keep warm?

If frost comes along, I will bring them both into the basement, on the same table by the same window. I won’t go down in history with the reputation of breaking little green hearts of family-minded flowers.

As it turned out, my two loving spider plants sprouted long arms of new growth to show that my consideration had brought them happiness and fruitfulness. I am now listening more to the subtle suggestions of my flowers. ❖

About the Author: Gisela Woldenga has published short stories, poems, and books for many years. Looking at flowers and bushes in her garden, she is sure they communicate with each other, maybe even yell at each other. Her story might be proof of that. She tells us that she plans to listen more regularly.