the trials of my syngonium

I didn’t know a syngonium was a syngonium. They were just these odd mottled plants my mum had. She’d cut them at the stalks and put them in a vase, and there they’d live forever more.

So when I looked for greenery to compliment my new home, I took cuttings from my mothers plant and stuck them in old wine bottles, hoping that I would, perhaps, get a good few months out of them before having to replace with new cuttings.

 

Not so. These plants seemed indestructible. Not only did they survive in their water homes, but they flourished, unfurling new leaves and growing in a curved vine which made my home look like an interior design masterpiece.

And then I got into plants. I got a fiddle leaf fig because I fancied a tree in my home. Waiting for this little guy to grow, I bought more and more plants to fill the void before becoming a bone fide plant nutter, turning to Instagram for inspiration. For someone who doesn’t enjoy the art of the selfie, plant photos are my jam.

ADC54105-7668-43B4-85FC-29CE253F8E4A.jpeg

Which is when I discovered that these nameless plants which I have neglected since welcoming them into my home are the fancy of all plantgrammers.

‘Syngonium, syngonium, syngonium. Look st my syngonium!’ Ah ha! Not only do these plants have a name, but they are famous! And I have several…

So I decided, in my wisdom, that I would plant one of my rooted beauties into soil where it would no doubt flourish so I could join the masses on Instagram by sharing the delights of this fabled plants.

Alas, the fucker died. Died! I mean, all I did  was give this plant what it naturally desires – earth – and the bastard had the audacity to go and die on me! What an ungrateful bastard.

And yet, despite my previous contentment of having these plants in water for a number of years, I now desire above everything else (apart from acquiring a Hoya Mathilde, that is) to have a syngonium survive a potted life.

Is this too much to ask?

Probably.

 

I could, of course, just go and buy one which is already established in soil, but that feels a little defeatist if you ask me. And I’m not about all of that. I mean, I’m the chick who persevered with African Violets for TWENTY years before finding success – I’m just hoping I don’t have to wait another twenty for my syngonium.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: