Part of my overall gardening strategy is to bring some plants in over the winter, so I don’t have to buy all new ones every year. This seems like a really good idea on paper, except what I forget every time is that all I’m really doing is transferring my anxieties and bug battles from outdoors to indoors.
This year is no exception. In fact, I waited so long to give you an update, that I have already lost several plants. The rosemary had worms growing in it within a month of being inside — like really big, gross, I’m-so-sorry-I-wasn’t-checking-on-you-enough-before-I-noticed-these-disgusting-giant-worms worms. The jilo, which I have not successfully overwintered since the first time I did it, also succumbed to little white bugs. These were not surprises, and taking these plants inside is more a game of chicken than of bright-eyed, green thumb optimism. Also, I confess, I bring them in and pay enough attention to water them without really checking as carefully as I should for signs of bugs. My bad.
But the third loss took me by complete surprise. What we call a flowering maple in my family (actually a Chinese lantern), is a houseplant you can put outside in the summer. The plants we have are the descendants of cuttings from my grandmother’s original plant from 50 or more years ago. It’s very cool. I have the one my father had for many years. Well, I have a cutting from that plant, and it grew into a big happy flowering bush this summer. His original plant went in and out of his house with the seasons with nary a problem, but it languished after he passed away. It was like a baby still crying after you have fed, diapered, and napped it. Maybe it took on some of his personality — he liked to keep arguing with you even after you agreed with him. My sister tried everything, and it was still being difficult. She joked that our father had left it that way just to annoy her. I took it off her hands, cajoled it some more, and last winter I got it to a pretty good place. Then one day its branches wilted like a Victorian woman with the vapors and the leaves fell off. But the joke was on it, because I had taken cuttings before that. I replanted both, and they had a fantastic summer. I only had room for one and brought it in. Of all the plants we have done this to, sometimes they would be unhappy with wilted leaves at first but would right themselves. Sometimes they didn’t thrive for reasons unknown. But to my knowledge no one had ever lost one to bugs. I was confident that of all the princess plants I had brought in, that was one I didn’t have to babysit.
After the first 2 losses, I still had 2 begonias, an oregano plant, one lemon balm, a pepper plant, and the flowering maple. I also have a sweet potato plant I potted after a friend gave me a slip that was growing off the sweet potato in his fridge. When I finally got around to paying attention after the holidays, I noticed the sweet potato leaves had a sticky substance on them. I sighed, but wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t wilted, but it also hasn’t been growing vigorously, so I figured it was ripe for an invasion. I mean it came from the grocery store, so what chance did it have really? I wasn’t too concerned, and then of course forgot about it.
I really do need to double down on my New Year’s intention to PAY BETTER ATTENTION to these sorts of things. Wish me luck.
In my defense, I kept remembering the sticky leaves, I would just have other things I needed to do. When I finally did investigate, I noticed the sticky substance was also on both the begonias and the oregano. It still didn’t occur to me to check the maple. A guilt-induced thorough search of each leaf and stem of the other plants revealed no culprits. Believe me, I looked, with my glasses off and stems and leaves 2 inches from my near-sighted, presbyopia eyes. I was a human magnifying glass.
To quote Yukon Cornelius: “Nothin’.” I found no trace of a bug or a web or a worm. It was just sticky.
I was just about to Google on my phone when as an after thought I checked the maple, which towered over all the plants and was flowering away grandiosely with no indications of bug trouble. I turned my eyeballs to its leaves, which were bug free and green. Then I noticed its main stem looked textured. Hmmm — the surface should be smooth. Why is it bubbling? Aren’t these plants immune to everything?
Well, my dear friends they aren’t. It was a severe case of this-is-what-happens-when-you-don’t-pay-attention-to-your-plants-you-herbarbarian. Otherwise known as scale. These bugs lock onto the plant, suck the sap and drip it on everything underneath it. It’s absolutely disgusting — wanna see?
Needless to say, it was beyond saving, but I was able to take 3 cuttings from the top branches which hadn’t yet been infected. I’m hoping at least one of them will root, and I’ll start fresh.
To honor the sacrifice of the flowering maple, I am now inspecting the survivors regularly, and tried my best to trim the sappy leaves. So far, so good.
Yeah, I know the begonia at the top is a little leggy, but I hate cutting off the flower. Plus I cut a fair number of sticky leaves, so I’m giving it a little time.
And last is the pepper plant, which I did notice had little white aphids. I have sprayed it 3 times with neem oil and so far as I can see, we’re at a stalemate. But, I’m bigger than them, I have more neem oil, and I am in full January intention mode and paying attention. So do not test me, you little varmints.
So that’s where we’re at. But of course I can’t help myself. The hydroponic garden is on deck for basil, lettuce, and spinach. Now those plants never get bugs. But I’ll keep checking to make sure. Wish me luck.
sandradeden.com 
Oh, the maple…