Chapter 13: Planting and Care (1)

Whether your glassed-in garden is an artistic arrangement of plants or an actual garden, give your design a tryout by placing the plants on a temporary basis. Put them in place and appraise the arrangement. Don’t rush. You’ll save time by not having to do it over later.

In the case of containers rounded on the bottom, line them with thin sheets of moss. Turn the green side out. Next add an adequate layer of pebbles or sand, for drainage. A sprinkling of broken charcoal is particularly desirable. The close humid air may cause soil to grow “sour” without it.

Soil may be acid or not, heavy or light, sandy or humus-rich. It all depends on the type of plant to grow in it, and it will be moist when you use it. Please, make the soil deep enough to give the plants root-room. If you want to make it interesting, build it up gently into slopes or natural mounds. Flat land is dull, not nearly so interesting.

As you put in the plants, add the stones, pebbles, paths, or pools--whatever you have in your design. May I warn you--don’t dirty the inside of the glass. Once dirty, it is almost impossible to clean up later. Plant sparsely. Remember, your plants are going to grow. The finishing touch will be the addition of “sod” or moss on the bare areas. Most of the suggestions for dish gardens and model landscapes in earlier chapters apply here. Finally, polish the glass and spray the plants with a fine mist to clean off any soil that may be on leaves and stems. Water very gently.

According to tradition, partridgeberry bowls are arranged differently. The base of the bowl is lined with moss, and covered with drainage layers, charcoal, and then soil. Then the berried plants and any others to be combined with them are placed, one layer at a time, with their faces against the glass. Their roots are toward the center and covered with soil. Finish the top layer facing up; sprinkle any loose berries on top; mist the foliage gently; cover with glass, and deck out with a big bow of Christmas ribbon.

For a few days after planting, set a terrarium where the light is not bright. After that, it needs light or sunlight according to the requirements of the plants. If they grow lank, limp, and leggy, they are usually stretching out for more light. Window-sill plants may lean toward the window--remedy: simply turn the terrarium around, and alternate it every few days so that both sides get an equal share of light.

Temperature also depends on the plants. Hardy outdoor natives are best at 60 degrees or less, even if they are moved to a cool spot at night. Tropical plants, and many others, are happy at the usual living-room temperatures.

Watering can be tricky, but not if you are careful and rational. Obviously, if the top of your container is covered tightly, not much moisture can escape. It will condense inside the glass and drop back into the garden. Water will be needed less frequently. But don’t be too happy about this. If there is excess moisture, if too much collects on the glass, if the soil is always soggy, mildew and root-rot may result. Lift off the top for a while and let the inside dry out a little. Keep the soil on the dry side if the cover fits too tightly.

Here is another warning--soil should never become completely dry. (I am afraid I have you walking on a tightrope.) Again, take that handle of a spoon or fork and dig down through a bare spot so you can see how wet the soil is at the bottom. If water is needed, add it very gently. Remember, the small plants must not be deluged and dislodged; use just enough water to moisten the soil, not soak it. Sorry, but it is impossible to write down any definite schedule for watering. Frequency and quantity depend on the size of the terrarium and the size of the plants, on the outside temperature, and on other environmental factors. Even the weather and the season of the year are important. But, I’ll bet you need watering much less frequently than you think. You may feel you should fertilize the plants so they will grow more vigorously. Here is a word of warning on that score--few woodland plants appreciate chemical fertilizers (the powders you buy at the hardware store or in the horticultural supply shops). If you want to feed your plants, the best thing to use is a weak solution of manure water. I am always bundling up manure in gunny sacks, soaking it in a watering pot, and then using the water on my plants.

Glass-covered terrariums usually keep themselves clean inside, because dust just can’t get into them. You may need to remove fading flowers and leaves. If you have any plants, particularly creepers, that threaten to take over and smother the others, get a sharp pair of embroidery or manicure scissors and begin pruning. Aliens such as earthworms and slugs are out. Put on your sharpest-pointed heels and step on them.

_CHAPTER 5_

MINIATURE
GREENHOUSE GARDENS

As far as I am concerned, the first part of this chapter is a dream. It is such a precious dream I shouldn’t even publish it until it comes true. I am afraid I must confess that parts of it have already been published in _Flower and Garden_. I was so carried away with the idea I rushed it into print, just so I could tell the world about a dream. It is a dream I hope you will dream with me. The magazine has given me permission to repeat the article I wrote for them.

The whole thing started when I began to get bored with prissy rows of pots in my own greenhouse. It is a forty-by-twenty-foot house and really isn’t ours. (It belongs to a neighbor who used to use it for the chickens. The chickens didn’t like being dispossessed, but they adapted themselves to the horse barn, where they are much happier.) My dream picked up emphasis when I tried a few “potless gardens” with plant roots unconfined and running freely in the soil. I immediately saw how much happier the plants were and how much more naturally they throve. I am a working girl. I have but a few years to go on my retirement plan, and then I can retire. Hence, I dream about my own personal greenhouse. My dream greenhouse.

I picture it as an extension of our recreation room so I can look out through the large window to the glassed-in garden a dozen times a day, every day of the year. There will be a convenient door for the many times I’ll be lured away from my typewriter. Any moment I wish, I can step into my garden to watch a bud unfold, tuck a wandering tendril back around a support, breathe in the fresh, moist fragrance only a greenhouse has.

My garden will be tropical. I love it that way. You, my reader, may wish a desert planted with fabulous cacti, or perhaps a cooler garden for alpine and hardier plants. But I love the exotics; and I will plant each one where it will grow according to its natural whims. Please, no more neat rows of pots on benches. My creepers will be planted where they can clamber over the soil and an occasional rock or rotted log. Climbers will have some picturesque support on which to climb. Epiphytes will have trees to perch on; and the danglers, baskets to hang from.

There will be variations of light, from full sun to patches of dappled or deep shade. If I can manage it, somehow I’d like to have variations in temperature in the different parts of my dream greenhouse. Some plants like the vigor of a cool corner; others revel in tropical warmth. Then there is the matter of moisture. For dry-growing plants there would be rock gardens and raised beds; for moisture-lovers there would be sunken, humus-rich bogs.

But you can’t have a greenhouse, dream or otherwise, without having utilities, heating plant, water pipes, and potting places. Those I would conceal under the shade of flowering vines. I think I should allow myself the luxury of a stool--perhaps even a rocking chair--where I can sit down to pot or propagate my plants.

Of course, there would be a pool in my greenhouse garden, with a water lily to flower in it. Around the edge would be arranged rocks to make a home for friendly frogs, salamanders, and turtles. I would teach them to be so friendly I could take them to safe quarters when I had to spray or fumigate. Restful ferns would frame that pool. A fountain would make the musical sound of splashing water. Perhaps the overflow would run into a tiny, winding stream. I’ll have to ask Fred, our plumber, about that.

I don’t know much about birds, but I’d like to have a canary housed in a cage. He’d be there only when the vents were open. Otherwise he’d be free to fly. I might even have a parakeet for his company. I’d have a radio to play softly--only classical, gentle music. Nothing with brass--mostly violins and soft ones at that. No telephone--never. I’d have a bench for my guests--wrought iron very likely, since I think it would fit the décor, but the sort that is comfortable. Somehow, I’m going to have to figure out a way of labeling my plants so the labels will not show. Perhaps, we can do it electronically. As I have said, I would have a rocking chair, an old and battered one. And the grandchildren--this being a dream I can have grandchildren (our own youngsters are still young). There would be a curiosity corner for them where they could touch the mimosa and see it fold, watch a pitcher plant catch a fly, pick fluffy bolls of cotton, or dig a small peanut crop.

My garden will be full of surprises. Any day of the year a visitor will find something new--a miniature orchid flowering on the branch of the bromeliad tree; iridescent _Selaginella uncinata_ stalking on stilt-roots under a dwarf banana; carved columns, old urns, pieces of ceramic art I expect to pick up in my travels. Here, perhaps an old tree trunk sunk naturally in the soil; there, a log half buried as it would be in the woods; and then some stepping stones, two or three at the most to entice guests to look down on a mound of oxalis in full flower; overhead, a moss-lined basket of flamboyant epiphyllum in spring.

My planting, of course, will be carefully planned, but the plan will not be obvious. The shaggy fishtail palm, _Caryota urens_, would be placed in the perfect spot. The Mexican tree fern would look as if it had lived there always. The bromeliad tree would seem to have lived and died in my indoor jungle, and the plants rooted in its branches would look as if they had planted themselves, as they do in the tropics. Luscious-leaved philodendrons would climb and cover any obvious walls. Vines would be trained to soften sharp corners and provide some shade. In irregular beds I’d plant a natural arrangement of upright flowering and foliage plants--begonias, fuchsias, oleander, all kinds of aroids, a dwarf citrus or two. A walk might be edged with the tiny, delicious Corsican mint, _Mantha requieni_.

In a warm, partly shaded area I’d go crazy with gesneriads--flaming episcias covering the ground, tube-flowered aeschynanthus spilling down from above, fiery-flowered columneas in all their glory. And yes, I’d have African violets--not in pots, but in baskets, in strawberry jars, or sunk in the soil.

If (when?) I have my greenhouse, there are some plants I wouldn’t be without. Among vines--silver-leaved _Cissus striata_ with its swinging curtain of stringy aerial roots; _Clerodendrum thomosoniae_, its blue-green leaves smothered in red-hearted white flowers in spring; _Passiflora coccinea_, the red passion flower, for glamour. I’d hang baskets of the new soft-hued fuchsia hybrids, and my favorite floriferous begonia, ‘Shippy’s Garland.’

For fragrance, I’d plant a jasmine, _Stephanotis floribunda_, and _Osmanthus fragrans_, the precious olive. For early spring refreshment, I’d force miniature and dwarf daffodils, bringing in pots of them from the cold frame and sinking them in the soil. I’d want the silky-soft foliage and royal-purple flowers of _Tibouchina semidecandra_, the glory bush; but I’d pinch and prune it, to keep it fairly low. I’d want a large basket floating airy fronds, one of the davallias, or rabbit’s-foot ferns, and a smaller basket for the variegated _Abutilon megapotamicum_, because I love its gold-splashed leaves strung neatly along wiry stems, and its dangling red-and-yellow lantern flowers.

Just one more thing to complete my dream. Near the door of my dream-greenhouse garden, I’d have a special box for my guests, a box filled with small plants from which they could choose a parting gift. (I know if this greenhouse works out as I picture it, I shall have guests. I shall be happy to see them come, and a bit wistful when they leave. I will feel better if they take a small token of my gardening with them as they go.)

Frankly, this idea of a dream greenhouse came upon me quite casually. Much as we love our home here in Redding, Connecticut, we discovered a place which we felt we would like even better--a manor sort of place with stables, pools, formal gardens, a very charming old house, and seemingly endless rock walls. My husband and I fell in love with it--he, I think, because of a quarter-mile of trout streams, I, because it had a most charming greenhouse, the one I have been dreaming about. At this writing the entire project is still very much in the future, but we have hopes.

To be reluctantly honest, my greenhouse garden is not a brand-new idea. Mammoth conservatories are often planted as gardens, and so are the “plant rooms” now built into the more luxurious contemporary homes. Both are often show places, with plants brought in for display at the peak of their flowering beauty and, as they begin to fade, returned to spend the rest of the year in more utilitarian growing quarters. My garden would be a year-round project, the plants allowed to live through their natural cycles of active growth and rest without disturbance. We follow this procedure out of doors when we plant annuals over the spring-flowering bulbs; why not indoors, too?

Tropical garden in early stages with room for creeping ground
cover and growing trees.]

And, of course, there must be many hobby greenhouses already planted as gardens. I saw one near Boston, a fairly large one set into the side of a steep hill. It was a perfect piece of a desert, with the soil made suitably sandy and the curious cacti and other succulents growing as naturally as though they had never left home. Mrs. Ernesta Ballard has a small tropical greenhouse so realistically planted you feel as if you are in an exotic jungle the minute you step inside the door. But both of these places lack one important asset--room for the rocking chair and the radio with its soft music, things I hope I won’t have to be without.

A miniature garden in a glass-covered terrarium]

This complete greenhouse garden may not appeal to you, or it may not be practical or possible. In that case, I urge you to try a smaller naturalistic planting of some sort, if only to get that “garden feeling” and see how happy it makes your plants.

As a substitute for that Boston desert garden, I filled a small section of one of our greenhouse benches with a suitable soil mixture and planted it with small cacti and other colorful succulents, with here and there an interesting rock or two. These plants never flowered so freely when confined in pots, never showed off to such advantage. But I made one big mistake. I failed to make allowance for the more lusty growth, and planted the garden much too thickly. In just a few months the garden looked not the least like a sparse and frugal desert, but more like a menagerie of scrambling, hoydenish pets.

Dream greenhouse, delightful and enchanting]

Another garden that is not quite so wild and reckless is planted around a small pool under a greenhouse bench. The pool is actually a large plastic basin that must be emptied and cleaned with fastidious regularity. It would be better, of course, dug out and cement-lined, with a drainage pipe at the bottom. The plants are tropical, because they are in the warmth near the heating pipes; shade-loving, because a bench (even though it is slatted and admits some light) is above them. This is an excellent place for ferns, upright or climbing foliage plants, soft ground covers like selaginella. If I were to install fluorescent lights, I could add a number of flowering varieties.

The author’s succulent garden]

A soil-filled bench is the site of my husband’s pet project, a grove of miniature fruit trees. There always seem to be flowers or fruits on the small orange, lemon, kumquat, and pomegranate trees. But again, we erred. We did not realize how vigorously these trees would respond to having their roots free in soil. The dwarf banana and ever-bearing fig now threaten to exceed dwarf proportions at any moment, even to go through the roof.

Rampant greenhouse with citrus trees, banana tree, and birch
trunk covered with bromeliads]

A naturalistic planting that occupies a minimum of bench space is a bromeliad tree fitted with a sturdy stand to hold it upright. (The stand we are using actually is a Christmas-tree stand.) For the tree itself, we selected the top of a birch tree which blew over in the woods behind our garage. The tropical green contrasts nicely with the white bark of the birch, otherwise our selection wasn’t too wise. Birch wood is soft and doesn’t last too long, hence we have been propping and wiring branches to keep them in place. Cracks, crotches, and pockets created for the purpose are packed with osmunda fiber tightly wrapped around the base of all kinds of brilliant bromeliads, some few orchids, a staghorn fern, and other epiphytic plants. The plants need not even be rooted if the osmunda is packed tightly around the base; if they’re wired in place so tightly that the spray from the hose can’t loosen them, they’ll soon be at home on the tree. Their roots will grow through the osmunda and they will attach themselves to the tree. Of course, the osmunda must be kept moist until the roots form. Once rooted they are fed by dusting the outside of the sphagnum with soluble fertilizer and watering it in. As a finishing touch, we threw strands of Spanish moss over the branches. The misty-gray moss thrives, and even flowers.

As further proof that many plants prefer freedom to being confined in pots, try planting just one creeper--an episcia, for example--in the center of a spot filled with suitable soil. See how soon it will garland the top with lush foliage, how freely it flowers. Many plants recommended for hanging baskets are really creepers and are better off when treated this way.

PLANTING AND CARE

Large or small, a greenhouse garden, like any other, should be designed carefully and never planted until you have the plan firmly in mind. Each plant should be given room in relation to all the others, and not merely at planting time but with maturity time in mind. Allow plenty of space for spreaders to spread and creepers to creep; and make sure every climber has its support. And, of course, plants in close proximity should have compatible cultural preferences in soil, moisture, light, and the like.

_Light and Sunlight_

It shouldn’t be difficult, in a complete greenhouse garden, to arrange for areas of full sunlight, partial or dappled sun, and shade, and to do it in a natural manner. Tall plants will get the sun first and for the longest time; but you could also build a slope, a sand dune, or a rock garden that would face the sun and get the most of it. Partial-sun plants could be placed where they are only lightly shaded by other plants or, if necessary, by shadings on the sections of glass above them. Shade-loving plants can grow under small trees and bushes.

Almost any greenhouse, in any area, should have shading applied to the glass in early summer. Several shading compounds are available, in white or green, and are mixed and applied with either a wide brush or a sprayer. These compounds are constituted so that they slowly weather away during the summer and leave the glass clear by autumn. But if you happen to have plants that need all of the winter sun possible, it is wise also to clean the glass.

_Temperature_

Greenhouses are generally classed as cool (40–60 degrees), moderate (50–70 degrees), or warm (60–80 degrees). This refers to the minimum night temperatures at which the thermostat is set to regulate the furnace or heater. In warm climates where an air-conditioner is used, it follows the same scale. Greenhouse plants are usually classified similarly. But if other cultural conditions are favorable, many plants will tolerate a much wider range.

In order to grow the widest variety of plants, I set my greenhouse thermostat at 60 degrees in winter. This is a little warm for some cool-growing items such as geraniums, and causes outdoor garden plants (annuals, perennials, and vegetables started from seed) to grow slightly leggy and lank. But they recuperate in a hurry when they are moved outside. This temperature is slightly cool for subtropical plants; some gesneriads merely hold their own through the winter, neither growing nor flowering; some extremely tender begonias are forced into dormancy, from which they awaken in warm spring weather.

_Humidity and Ventilation_

With such a motley assortment of plants, I try to keep relative humidity at 75 per cent or higher. The minute the gauge dips below that mark, we wet down the walks and benches. Of course, this happens only on bright, sunny days. During dark, gloomy weather we water and mist as little as possible.

Constant circulation of fresh air is extremely important all year long. Our doors and vents are wide open in summer. On quiet winter days we may open doors or vents just a crack for a short time. Automatic ventilation is a marvelous convenience in late winter and early spring when the sun suddenly seems to get very hot and threatens to scorch everything under the glass.

_Soil_

Whether a greenhouse garden is a small flat, part of a bench, or a large ground bed, soil should be prepared carefully to suit the kind of plant that will grow in it. You’ll find “recipes” of all kinds in any authoritative greenhouse garden book. Prepared soil mixtures should be at least a foot deep for beds in which you plan to grow plants of moderate size. For fruit trees and other larger plants, make it even deeper.

_Fertilizing_

The fertilizing schedule which works so well for my house plants, seems to do equally well for my greenhouse plants. I shall stay with it until I find something better. But it does seem possible that a large greenhouse garden, with large areas of carefully prepared and nutritious soil, would probably need feeding slightly less frequently than plants in pots. I shall have to try this, when my dream greenhouse comes true.

_Watering_

One of the “musts” in my dream greenhouse will be both hot and cold water, and a provision for mixing them as they flow into the hose. Thus, watering will be like a gentle summer rain. I’ll have an extra-fine nozzle to break the stream into a delicate mist. Warmed water in a fine spray surely should not injure tender foliage in any way. And think what fun it would be to water a garden this way, enjoying the slightly musty fragrance of a warm summer night when soil is moistened by rain--and all of this in January when the snow is piled deep in drifts and banks outside the house.

_Grooming_

These are the little everyday pleasures of gardening in a greenhouse--snipping back a wandering branch, chiding a creeper and pulling it back from crawling over a neighbor, picking off a faded flower, supporting a branch heavily laden with flowers or fruit. It is real fun, and makes the difference between an overgrown mass and a carefully tended garden in which each plant appears at its best and in harmony with the others. Cleanliness--the removal of all organic matter before it rots, the rinsing away of dust and dirt--is the best protective measure against infiltration of insects and disease.

_Insects and Disease_

When my retirement time comes, I may have to make a choice. Which do I want most--the convenience of fumigation with greenhouse “bombs,” or the presence of pet frogs, ladybugs, friendly insects, chameleons, and the like among my greenery? I am sure I will choose the latter, because I will have plenty of time to tend my greenhouse garden; and it’s not too much trouble to “spot spray” any plant that shows signs of problems. Anyway, it’s risky to use strong fumigants in a greenhouse that is attached to a dwelling, unless it is tightly closed in and has no cracks or fissures for leakage. And who could be sure of that. Anyhow, if I killed all the insects, what would the frogs find to eat.

GREENHOUSE PROPAGATING

Actually, I have two propagating cases in our large greenhouse. One is completely enclosed in plastic to keep the humid air even more humid. It has three or four inches of perlite on top of an electric coil to give it gentle bottom heat. The cuttings are inserted in rows so they are easier to manage and remove when their time comes. Here I root all cuttings from delicate plants and those with large leaves that need high humidity to keep from wilting and drying while roots are forming. My little plastic boxes of difficult seeds are also set there, where they will keep warm and protected.

The second propagating box is wide open--merely an extra-large flat filled with sharp sand. Here I root the more rugged, or succulent, plants, such as cacti, geraniums, semperflorens begonias, and anything that may rot if kept too moist. Indeed, the sand may dry out occasionally, but they don’t seem to mind. Both cases are shaded by some old bamboo blinds.

(_All of the window-garden plants listed in Chapter 6 do very well in greenhouses. See also the forced bulbs in Chapter 13._)

_CHAPTER 6_

MINIATURE HOUSE AND GREENHOUSE PLANTS

My gardening friends certainly vary as to ability, inclination, talent, and aptitude. At one extreme there is Aunt Minnie, whose green thumb injects magic into every pot and for whom every plant grows to buxom, blooming perfection. At the other end of the scale there is the poor soul who tries so hard but can’t keep a plant alive no matter what she does. Why do some plant-lovers never fail, while others never seem to win? There are a number of reasons, including a difference in growing conditions, variations in the types of plants, and even the amount of practical experience or common sense Aunt Minnie is blessed with.

The truth is that there is no single, incontrovertible secret to success, but rather a combination of many factors of equal, or nearly equal, importance. The best soil in the world won’t make plants flower unless temperature and sunlight are right. The frequency with which you water plants should be affected by indoor temperature, humidity, and pot size. And don’t think it is Aunt Minnie’s favorite brand of fertilizer alone that keep her plants in good health.

In our house, and in countless others, it is not possible to make growing conditions as perfect as a plant might wish; but we try to come as close as we can, and find most plants are willing and able to make concessions. One more thing we do. We learn all about each plant’s natural home--desert, steamy jungle, Mexican mountainside--so we’ll know what combination of conditions it likes best.

CARE OF HOUSE AND GREENHOUSE PLANTS

_Light and Sunlight_

Plants need daylight to make energy; they can’t grow without it, or its equivalent in artificial light. They need some sunlight to set buds, and can’t flower without it or a substitute. Intensity and duration of light should vary according to each plant’s preferences.

No plant of ours is left to waste its life away on the fireplace mantel, where the light is too dim to read the printing on a book of matches. Granted, we might set it there for a day or so as a decoration, but we would return it to its bright window sill before it began to stretch out weakly in search of light. These are the signs of insufficient light--weak, lopsided growth; leaves that feel limp and look pale; new leaves, if any, growing progressively smaller and smaller; long leaf stems and long internodes.

Our window greenhouse, which faces south, is reserved for flowering plants that need all the light and sun we can give them, particularly in winter. This is Connecticut, remember; the winter sun seldom gets very hot or stays bright very long. And there are days on end when the sun simply does not show its face. California’s “shade plants”--begonias and fuchsias, for example--require full sun during a Northern winter.

For plants that are not quite so greedy for sunshine, we have the east-facing playroom picture window, which is lightly shaded by a high-branched deciduous tree in summer. For foliage plants, and a few others that will thrive on little or no sun, there are several other windows around the house where there is plentiful daylight, but the sun is seldom seen.

Your situation may be entirely different--perhaps a glassed-in porch that’s brighter than our window sills ever will be; or a contemporary-style glassed-in entry that lets sun stream in all winter long. Keep in mind that various plants have varying needs for light and sunlight; and the only sun that benefits a plant is that which falls directly on it. A south window may actually be shady in summer, and this is truer the farther south you go.

_Temperature_

Some plants grow their healthiest when the thermometer reads 50 to 55 degrees at night and 5 to 10 degrees higher during the day; some tender tropical _émigrés_ suffer a chill when the mercury dips under 60 degrees at night. But the greatest number will tolerate a fairly wide range, and are quite content with whatever the house has to offer. This again assumes that other conditions, such as humidity, are kept up to the plants’ requirements.

Temperature tolerances are directly affected by the humidity in the air. Many plants will accept a temperature that is higher than average if the air is moist. Some will accept a temperature that is below average if the air is not too moist. In air that’s too hot and dry, leaf edges will often turn brown and crisp; when it is too cool, a plant may stop growing temporarily; when it is both too cool and too moist, there may be danger of rot. Don’t trust the thermostat that governs your house heating system to tell you whether the temperature is right for a plant; measure it on the very spot where the plant is growing.

_Humidity_

This is often a more crucial factor than temperature, and one that is more troublesome to change. Relative humidity is a measure of the amount of moisture in the air as compared with the maximum amount of moisture the air can hold at a given temperature. It is expressed in percentage figures.

Most plants find it difficult to breathe in dry air; they need some moisture around, on, and in their leaves. (People are better off when they have it, too.) Alone, or teamed up with unsuitable temperature, low humidity can cause leaves to wither, buds to drop before they open, and even an invasion of mites or some other pest.

A humidity gauge is not nearly so familiar a household item as a thermometer, but it is equally useful, usually better looking, and not much more costly. And it can come up with some eye-opening information. The humidity gauge will tell you very quickly, for example, when an air-conditioning system is missing its recommended mark of 50 per cent relative humidity. It will stop you from overwatering in muggy weather. It will show you that humidity can be dangerously low in the window where your plants are growing, even though it is perfectly acceptable three feet away. (Perhaps there is a radiator beneath the window.)

What you do to increase humidity depends on how low it is, and on what type of plant you are growing. At our house we have three systems for the humidity problem--the lazy, the halfway, and the necessary nuisance. The lazy way works fine for dry-air-type plants such as most cacti and other succulents. We simply grow them where the hot blasts from the radiator are strongest. They don’t wither, and when on sunny days we water them, we also mist them with a fine water spray. (For an easy misting device, we have an old Windex bottle with a spraying attachment in the cap. It does a fine job. Of course, there are other commercial products with built-in sprayers. Perhaps you have one in your kitchen.)

To go “halfway,” you set up some simple humidifying device. The containers which you fill with water and hang behind the radiators are effective to some extent. But don’t forget to keep them filled. Pans of water on top of the radiator also help. A steam kettle, such as you use when the kiddies have a chest cold, can be used for a few hours. But remember, that steam is hot, so be careful not to get it too close to your plants. Just keep it in the general vicinity; please, not too close! Here is something else we often use--put some gravel, sand, perlite, or vermiculite in a plate or platter, pour in some water, and put your flower pot in it. The water will evaporate and moisten the air around your plant. If you have a number of plants, get a metal or plastic tray. If you have a decorative garden, you might want to have a tray made to order, to fit your space. Paint it a pleasing color. I have seen such trays decorated with decals, but personally, I’d rather rely on my plants for the necessary decoration. In having a tray made--we’ve had several made by our tinsmith--the larger the tray, the better.

The “nuisance” system is usually necessary only for very delicate tropical plants that flourish in highly humid jungles and rain forests. They will need the platter, or tray of moist sand, plus some enclosure to hold in the moist air. For a single small plant, this can be an inverted bell jar, or a tent made from a polyethylene bag (the sort vegetables are often packed in) and propped over the jar and plant. A larger bag can be used to protect several plants. You can even use kitchen-type plastics such as Saran Wrap. A collection of tropicals almost calls for an indoor greenhouse, like the oldtime Wardian case. In our window greenhouse we can close the inside sash and, with the aid of pans of water, keep the humidity just about where we want it. On cold nights the electric-coil heater isn’t always adequate, so we open the sash to get the benefit of the heat of the room.

The plants that need this extra humidification are definitely in the minority; most are content with simple measures, or none at all.

_Soil_

When I first became interested in a wide variety of indoor plants, I prepared soil mixtures with the care and precision I had used in making the formulas for our children. It involved trips to the woods for leaf mold, sifting and mixing ingredients, and sterilizing the ordinary soil which we used in order to kill the seeds that are found in almost all soils. In our Long Island home we had an extra stove in the basement which we used for canning and other secondary purposes. I’d fill the oven with old baking pans and other receptacles which contained my potting soil, and light the burner. Frankly, it “reeked” and the reek was all over the house. It was as though we were burning feathers in the fireplace. Now that I am less energetic, and somewhat wiser, I buy prepared soil.

I find that for a reasonable number of plants the prepared soil is not costly and saves a lot of time and preparation. Of course, if you are a professional you may have your own ideas about soil, and your own formulas for a mixture. I’ll admit I do a little mixing on my own, but that is because I grow many different kinds of plants in pots, and each has individual preferences. Most cacti and succulents need something sandy that doesn’t hold moisture too long, as is natural in their desert homes. Tropical plants need a light, porous medium that is rich in moisture-holding humus, like decayed leaves on the jungle floor. Some plants get nourishment only from acid soil, some need alkaline soil, some like soil nearly neutral. I’ve found Michigan peat moss a good starting base regardless of requirements of individual plants.

I like to dish it right out of the bag. When done, I always pull the plastic inner liner together to keep it moist. In extra dry weather I often wet a sponge and put it on top of the mixture. Potting is a pleasure, because Michigan peat feels so soft, silky, and clean. At repotting time I discover well-developed, healthy root systems.

For plants that require better-than-average drainage--mostly succulents--I mix peat moss with builders’ sand. (Want to know where I got my last batch of builders’ sand?--from a contractor who was building a house down the road. He and his wife happen to be begonia lovers and he was charmed to know about my book _All About Begonias_.) The formula for the mixture is two-thirds soil and one-third sand. For even greater aeration, I may throw in a moderate ration of crushed charcoal.

On the other hand, some of my plants insist that their soil always be moist. For them I add coarse vermiculite, perlite, or Pelonex, and in a similar ratio. These soil conditioners have the ability to hold moisture without making the soil muddy or soggy.

There is another item on my potting-soil shelf--a jar of horticultural lime. This is for plants that dislike acidity. I either add it to the potting soil--a scant teaspoon per three-inch pot--or mix it with water, to be applied later. With or without these added ingredients, I feel that a good potting soil has sufficient nutrients for almost any plant for several months; so I seldom mix in fertilizer of any kind.

_Potting_

When and how to repot a plant should be the least of a gardener’s problems. Here is a case where hovering, pampering, and fussing usually does more harm than good. Plants are often better repotted _mañana_ than today.

I know many of my plants have benefited from the fact that I have been too busy to repot them whenever the impulse came over me. I hate to think how many I have killed with kindness in my less active years.

Remember my Aunt Minnie? She embarked on a big repotting spree every spring, but not very often in between. Some of her most handsome specimens have lived in coffee tins and large juice cans for years. Instinctively she knows when a plant should be repotted. Don’t ask me how she knows it. And when that time comes, she goes about it in a firm, no-nonsense manner, firmly but tenderly.

There is one sure way to tell whether a plant needs a new pot. Turn the old pot upside down, tap the contents loose, and examine the soil ball. If it is completely covered with a network of roots, get busy with a larger pot. If not, don’t repot, just slip it back where it was before and give it a loving pat. If you happen to have a seedling you have great hopes of raising to a beautiful maturity, it will have to be repotted more often.

The kind of pot is a matter of personal choice. Plastics are lighter in weight, easier to clean, and capable of keeping soil moist for a longer period of time. This makes them suitable for moisture-loving plants, or for gardeners who have a tendency to forget the watering pot. Clay pots are porous, and because they let air seep into plants, they dry out faster. This makes them best for dry-growing plants, and for overwaterers (like me).

Actually, the size of the pot is more important than the type. It takes an expert to know how to water a plant when it is overpotted. You are not doing your plant a favor by housing it in a pot several sizes too large; in fact, you may even be signing its death certificate. As a rule, the new pot should be only one size larger than the previous one, thus leaving just enough room around the roots for some fresh soil. Pack the new soil firmly with your finger tips, a pencil, or a slim piece of wood. Be sure there are no empty air-pockets. Water it thoroughly and set it in a light, but not sunny, spot, for about a week. This will give it time to recover from any transplanting “shock.”

This discussion about overpotting applies to plants in general, but it is even more important with miniatures. Smaller pots will keep them down to natural, miniature size.

_Fertilizing_

Many people who have fewer plants than I--and more time--tend to make a fetish of fertilizing. I am afraid my methods are haphazard, and not to be recommended. Anyway, I will tell you what I do. Follow it if you like, but quite possibly you may have a better method which you prefer.

I keep two kinds of house-plant fertilizer on hand--a reliable brand of soluble commercial chemical plant food (it dissolves in water and has the note “trace elements added” on the label) and an organic food. This organic food is either manure water or fish emulsion. The fish emulsion comes bottled and is diluted with water. As an amusing sidelight, our tomcat goes slightly out of his mind when around a potted plant that has had fish emulsion for its dinner. The cat just can’t find the source of that aroma. Manure water, on the other hand, has no such fascination. It is easy to prepare. Simply wrap a portion of well-rotted manure in a section of cheesecloth or burlap, and steep it in the watering pot long enough to produce a “tea” fluid. Better do this out of doors, in the garage, or in the tool shed. It is usually “olfactorily offensive.”

Once a month I make a solution of the chemical fertilizer, at half the strength recommended on the label of the package, and feed plants as I water them. Two weeks later, and once a week after that if they need it, I feed with the organic solution. This, I think, constitutes a “balanced diet” for most types of plants.

Like overpotting, overfertilizing can lead to lost plants. It is my observation that an underfed plant usually doesn’t die quickly. It simply slows down until you have time to feed it. It is particularly important _not_ to fertilize plants that have been repotted recently, plants that are unhealthy or are plagued by insects or disease, plants that are resting right after flowering, plants that are dormant or semidormant, as some of them are at certain times of the year. _Do_ fertilize plants that are in active growth, setting buds, or in full bloom, plants that are aglow with good health, plants whose roots have filled, or nearly filled, their pots.

_Watering_

My children, who are learning to care for plants rather early, have been grounded in one fundamental fact--feel the soil in the pot to see if the plant needs water. If the soil is dry, fetch the watering pot (succulents can be an exception). I have been told my kiddies have had arguments at school about watering the plants which cluster on the sunny window sills. The usual procedure in our Redding school is to assign the care of the plants to a different child each day. He, or she, floods everything with water and then retires to his, or her, desk with the feeling of having done his, or her, good deed for the day. Plants, alas, are not like goldfish. They don’t care for swimming.

This brings up a question I am frequently asked about house plants: “How often should they be watered?” Even an IBM calculator with a thousand cards feeding through its maw couldn’t come up with a better answer than this simple statement: “Water them when they need it.”

At the risk of repeating myself, I will sum up my thoughts on this problem, and then go on to other subjects. Test the soil with your fingers, if it is dry, you can most likely water with impunity. If moist, more water is inviting root rot. When you water, make sure the entire soil ball is so saturated that excess water runs out the drainage hole in the bottom of the pot. Miniature plants are likely to require more frequent watering, because their pots are small and they are small. Frequency of watering: Here we get into an awful lot of tangibles, and some intangibles. There are such things to consider as the type of plant and its moisture needs, size of the plant and its pot, what sort of soil is in the pot, is the plant root-bound or not, is it in active growth or dormant, what is the weather like out of doors--is it warm or blustery, clear and sunny, dark and humid, or just another day. Remember, on hot dry days the moisture is going to slip away into the atmosphere. On cloudy days it will hang around longer; humidity will take care of that. If you feel your plant needs water and you are afraid of flooding it, you might try another device. Put some moist peat in a larger pot--or you can use vermiculite or perlite--and set the plant and its pot inside this larger pot.

Right now you may be wondering about hanging baskets and those plants that are wrapped in osmunda and mounted on slabs of wood. Give them a good dunking in the kitchen sink but let the excess water drain off before you hang them again, out of deference to your carpeting and furniture. Actually, the plants don’t care whether they spot your furnishings or not.

If all of this is confusing, may I sum it up in a phrase: “Just use your common sense” (horse sense may be a better term). I know I have written a few books about plants and gardening, and countless magazine articles, but here is a very candid confession. Until a very few years ago I knew practically nothing about the subject. What I know I learned by reading books and magazine articles, and “doing.” I know I killed a few plants out of ignorance, but I killed more with kindness. Every time a plant withered and died I felt badly. But I considered it a lesson in what to do, or not to do. I tried to find the cause for the demise. Today I have the satisfaction of having raised thousands of plants to beautiful bloomhood, and largely because of the sacrifice of some obscure begonia, or petunia, a few years back. I have been acclaimed as having a “green thumb.” Actually I do not have a green thumb. No one has. I thoroughly dislike the term. I dislike the implication that a person has a God-given quality which makes plants grow. Making plants grow and prosper is largely the mastering of a few rules, and the use of a lot of common sense. I’ll grant you, much of your common sense comes the “hard way.” But it is fun. I bow most respectfully to those plants which I killed with ignorance and kindness.

_Grooming_

This is the “beauty-parlor” treatment for your plants. Fading flowers and dying leaves are as unattractive on a plant as those unruly ringlets in a woman’s coiffure. In fact, they are even worse. They take strength from a plant and are unsanitary. Remove them as regularly as you can. You’ll be adding to the welfare of your plant. If the plant is of a type that needs to be pruned or pinched to keep it comely and compact, perform the operation before the branches get that gangly, middle-aged spread. Pinching out the new growing tips, either with sharp fingernails or sharper scissors, usually produces two new branches. If you pinch out the tips of these, you will most likely get four new branches and your plant will become pleasingly plump. The exception is the plant that blooms from the ends of new growth. Stop your pinching before the bud-setting season.

Not many miniatures need staking to keep them upright. If stake you must, do it as inconspicuously as possible and tie the stems neatly in their natural growing manner. Train miniature creepers in the direction you want them to grow, and miniature climbers up their supports. Rinse foliage with a fine spray (use that discarded Windex bottle I described earlier) as often as you can to wash away dust and dirt. Please, may I throw in a plea right here--recently I saw a commercial product which some people use to make their plants more green. It is a spray for foliage. For the moment it makes plants look green with its sheen. But it also clogs the pores on the plant and its leaves. For the moment it is beautiful; for permanency it is harmful. Decide, do you want your plant to live for the moment only?

_Insects and Disease_

Not long ago, when visiting a friend, I was taken out to her sun room to see her plants. She was proud, but I was shocked. What I saw was the most amazingly bug-ridden collection of fuchsias and geraniums I have seen in many a moon, plus a few poor distorted other flowers which were trying to survive. My poor hostess, honestly, I think she had no idea of her problems and the future of her plants. In fact, they had little future. I thought over that problem for a spell, and then told her the facts of life. Fortunately, she was able to save much of her greenery.

That poor gardener was on one end of the spectrum. On the other end are the overanxious ones who treat their plants with so many sprays and dusts that the leaves never get a chance to breathe pure air. Fortunately, in between there are the sane, sensible growers who are able to cope with the insects and diseases which beset house plants. As for myself, I have been at both extremes.

I now find prevention is the best protection. That is an old saw, but the best one I know. I keep plants and pots clean, remove dead flowers and foliage before they decay, and use germ-free potting soil. People often give me plants. I accept them most politely, and gratefully; but I am cautious about mingling them with my other residents of the greenhouse and window garden. I keep them in a quarantine section for a few weeks. No use asking for trouble, and I trust my friends understand.

For immediate and reliable treatment, I rely on an “all-purpose” house-plant spray or a dip. As long as I am careful to keep it up, I seem to have no great problems. When I get careless, as humans are wont to do, I regret it.

It is very convenient to rely on the new aerosol bombs--those that are specifically marked for house plants, and not those for household insects. There are several reliable brands, each listing on the label what they are to be used for. If there happens to be an added fungicide, so much to the good. That will cover just about everything.

A few words of caution about the use of aerosol bombs. Follow the instructions on the label to the letter. Hold the bomb at least eighteen inches away from your plant, maybe more. Some of those fluids come out of the can at a very low temperature and have the same effect as a blowtorch on foliage. Try to make sure the spray hits all parts of the plant. Remember, leaves also have an underside. Don’t let bugs use that underside as a hide-out.