Anyone who knows me also knows that I have a fondness for house plants. It is important to know that this does mean I am any good with houseplants. I just really like and can't say no to any offer. One of the local supermarkets here in town is having a going out of business sale and they still have some plants to sell. I think I might go on the last day and save them. I would consider this a charitable cause at a 25% discount to boot! It being close to Christmas, the store still has plenty of Christmas Cactus plants left. I already have two of the things and maybe in a few days I will have more. We shall see. I once wrote a paper about houseplants for a nature writing course I took. I didn't include Christmas Cactus in the mix becaue I didn't have one at the time, but here is a go! With pictures too!
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The phrase "emerald necklace" sounds perfect for describing the Christmas Cactus. Flat little ingots of waxy green link to each through frail tendons at the end of each segment. Is each of these segments a little leaf that make up the arm like branch? Or is the cactus freed of any sort of botanical taxonomy?
I think of it as a freak plant, the botanical equivalent of a double agent. The ovoid segments feature tiny spurs along the side, a sort of teeth to each segment. This is certainly quite cactus like, albeit less menacing than the hedgehog exterior of something like a barrel or melon cactus. They remind me of shark's skin and the way that you can get pricked if you rub them the wrong way.
So, that is one point for the cactus label. The Christmas cactus has pointy leaves. Cactus.
However, the Christmas cactus originates from the highlands of Brazil, where it lives strapped to tree branches in a rain forest. Yes, a rain forest. This cactus likes water and droops when dry, a time where all other cacti stand strong. Forget double agent, the Christmas Cactus is more like a penguin. Both defy their genera prototypes and both live in mind boggling harsh environments. And a pegnuin's feathers are like the Christmas cactus' spines. Both seem almost vestigial and tacked on. I am reminded of the dusty tweed jackets restaurants sometimes keep on hand in case some gentlemen forgot the dress code.
"I am sorry sir, but we do have rules. You will have to wear this jacket."
Did the Christmas cactus face such an embarrassing adventure. Did it take fellow Christmas plant Poinsettia out on the botanical town on night? Did it take it to the swanky Saguaro restaurant, where, a wizened Old Man Cactus maitre d' told him, "Ah...um...well...we have rules here and if you want to be with us well then you must wear the spikes. Here, we keep some ones on hand for situations like this. Yes, they are bit rudimentary, but, well, here you go."
However, like a cactus, the Christmas Cactus puts out incredible blooms worthy of the wait. My cactus is just now putting out salmon colored petals. They remind me of the pickled ginger that comes with sushi. Anyone who has ever wondered about how a child can be so stupid to put a colorful marble in their mouth must have never really looked at a flower. The way that the petals on the Christmas cactus appear so complex from afar, but prove silky thin once held only enhance the fascination. The entire plant actually looks quite alien.
There is no stem or trunk to imagine. Just a tangled burst of segments coming from a divot in the soil. But the petals are appetizing, fleshy, but still botanical and leafy. The blooms always feel heavy and damp as if just showered by a drizzle. Our Christmas cacti are not ture wild ones. Maybe in the wild the flowers feel much different, because I imagine the feel of these domesticated flowers come from the cactus making up for the lack of rain inside the well-lit homes and snowy window sills of America.
I think of it as a freak plant, the botanical equivalent of a double agent. The ovoid segments feature tiny spurs along the side, a sort of teeth to each segment. This is certainly quite cactus like, albeit less menacing than the hedgehog exterior of something like a barrel or melon cactus. They remind me of shark's skin and the way that you can get pricked if you rub them the wrong way.
So, that is one point for the cactus label. The Christmas cactus has pointy leaves. Cactus.
However, the Christmas cactus originates from the highlands of Brazil, where it lives strapped to tree branches in a rain forest. Yes, a rain forest. This cactus likes water and droops when dry, a time where all other cacti stand strong. Forget double agent, the Christmas Cactus is more like a penguin. Both defy their genera prototypes and both live in mind boggling harsh environments. And a pegnuin's feathers are like the Christmas cactus' spines. Both seem almost vestigial and tacked on. I am reminded of the dusty tweed jackets restaurants sometimes keep on hand in case some gentlemen forgot the dress code.
"I am sorry sir, but we do have rules. You will have to wear this jacket."
Did the Christmas cactus face such an embarrassing adventure. Did it take fellow Christmas plant Poinsettia out on the botanical town on night? Did it take it to the swanky Saguaro restaurant, where, a wizened Old Man Cactus maitre d' told him, "Ah...um...well...we have rules here and if you want to be with us well then you must wear the spikes. Here, we keep some ones on hand for situations like this. Yes, they are bit rudimentary, but, well, here you go."
However, like a cactus, the Christmas Cactus puts out incredible blooms worthy of the wait. My cactus is just now putting out salmon colored petals. They remind me of the pickled ginger that comes with sushi. Anyone who has ever wondered about how a child can be so stupid to put a colorful marble in their mouth must have never really looked at a flower. The way that the petals on the Christmas cactus appear so complex from afar, but prove silky thin once held only enhance the fascination. The entire plant actually looks quite alien.
There is no stem or trunk to imagine. Just a tangled burst of segments coming from a divot in the soil. But the petals are appetizing, fleshy, but still botanical and leafy. The blooms always feel heavy and damp as if just showered by a drizzle. Our Christmas cacti are not ture wild ones. Maybe in the wild the flowers feel much different, because I imagine the feel of these domesticated flowers come from the cactus making up for the lack of rain inside the well-lit homes and snowy window sills of America._______________________________________________
Really didn't know where I was going there. I think the antropomorphizing was a bit too much, but still just plain fun. If I was going to really go with this piece then I would pick one angle and run with it.
Wacky houseplants living in a world? Or purple prose with lots of big words? Do I want Veggie Tales or NOVA? We shall see.
Peace!
Wacky houseplants living in a world? Or purple prose with lots of big words? Do I want Veggie Tales or NOVA? We shall see.
Peace!
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