There’s a unique feeling, when we survey our indoor jungles. You see, in a world of rapid consumerism and instant gratification, plant people live in slowness. A touch here, a brush there, checking the underside of a leaf. Between us and the plants, there’s a quietness.

Many days out of the year it seems like few things happen. Sometimes months between interesting events. It almost seems like the plant is doing nothing at all. Yet… we wait. Then. Suddenly.

A bud. A node. A stem that wasn’t there the night before.

And we celebrate.

Between us and the plants, there’s a quietness. That is, until our patience is rewarded with a sign of growth. Of course we knew the plant was alive, but the sight of it blossoms in us a delight. It’s not just life but growth.

We sit and gaze at our variegations, our propagations. We detail our blooming flora. We take note as the shapes of leaves change and grow. As the leaves uncurl and the flowers unfurl. We catch the sunlight as it filters onto the green lives we cultivate.

We prune, pinch, and clip, hoping to encourage more growth.

We water. We withhold water. We repot, reorient, and reorganize. We wait until the next sign of growth.

We battle pests on behalf of our needy hobby. We go to war, spritzing, pruning, sterilizing. We watch and wait, hoping for a victory. We mourn our losses and rescue their children.

And between us and the plants, there’s a quietness.