Houseplants Chase Away Winter Blahs

If you think you’re the only one with the winter blahs, all you need to do is peek outside. Last week’s bitter cold took its toll on more than just we humans. Our landscapes are looking a bit forlorn.

Across the road from our house, acres of winter wheat stretch over a vast hill that climbs to the horizon. A thin blanket of snow tries to protect the wheat’s tender green blades. Other than the footprints of a few deer and coyote, nothing seems to have disturbed the stark whiteness. In fact, the only color between the off-white sky and the white ground is the brown-orange of the frozen prairie grass that borders each end of the blanket.

At the top of the hill, a glen of pines resembling something out of a Dr. Seuss book huddles against the bitter winds. Their once rich green color is now a cold blue-black. As I look at the other fields in the valley, I realize this same somber picture is repeated over and over like a tattered patchwork quilt.

My own garden doesn’t look much cheerier. The rich shades of green worn by so many of the evergreens have also taken on this blue-black hue. There seems to be nothing that hasn’t been affected. If the rhododendron leaves hung any lower, they could be considered mulch. I am not sure if it’s this lack of color that saddens me or if it’s the frozen stillness of the garden. Nothing seems to move except for an occasional whirl of blowing snow.

As I stand here focused on the bleakness outside, I find myself feeling the warm, moist soil of the spider plant hanging in the window beside me. Its bright green leaves, bordered in white present a stunning contrast to the outdoors. The earthy smell of the soil and its bright leaves scream, “Wake up! The garden may be asleep, but life hasn’t slowed down indoors.”

In fact, as I look around, I realize there’s a garden growing in full swing - bugs and all. The hoya is in full bloom - not a pleasant smell, but the flowers are exquisite. Most of the holiday cacti are still blooming, including the Easter cacti, (not about to be outshone by the others). Spider mites are enjoying the croton while an entire family of aphid has hatched on my overwintering geranium. Naturally the aphid have dropped honeydew, turning the glass shelf below into a natural sticky trap for would-be passersby.

Looking at my little jungle of houseplants certainly brightens my spirits. Though houseplants aren’t my favorite (many of them have made their way to the compost pile), I can’t imagine living without them. When it’s cold and nasty outside, houseplants afford us the opportunity to garden inside.

This is a great time to start plants from seed, to propagate, clean and divide a few houseplants and to dream up projects for spring.

With this renewed spirit, the outside doesn’t look quite as bleak. Amid the frozen tundra, there is beauty.

A bit of sunlight filters through the canopy of our maple, highlighting its strong branches and delicate twigs. The bright red stems of the red twig dogwood stand out brilliantly against the white snow.

For the first time I’ve truly come to appreciate the grace of all the weeping plants in my garden, especially the weeping willow and the weeping cherries. Their delicate branches add a sense of unique beauty all its own.

And of course, nothing can compete with the contorted filbert for winter interest. Its weeping, twisted branches add interest to any setting.

I am glad I didn’t cover the garden bench or take in the old wheelbarrow. Obviously, there is beauty in everything. All we have to do is look.

, DataTimes The following fields overflowed: CREDIT = Phyllis Stephens The Spokesman-Review