In Loving Memory of Big Jim
(1973-2023). The potted rubber tree, started half a century ago from a small cutting in Corpus Christi, Texas, died this past summer in Jackson, Mississippi, from complications of irregular watering. He is survived by Sandy the Sansevieria, 51, also from Corpus Christi.
Big Jim, rooted off an outdoor tree in the subtropics of South Texas, spent the first seven years being shuttled in a small pot between various houses, apartments, and college dorms; for the past 43 years he resided in Jackson, where except for a few temporary re-homings with family members who couldn’t handle him for long, he moved seasonally from warm, humid, summer-shaded outdoor porches to a bright indoors corner in my cabin where he was protected from freezing temperatures. Refreshed with regular balanced fertilizers, occasional repotting, and annual pruning to help him fit indoors, he was an anchor for but outlived countless dozens of other potted tropical plants.
And his untimely demise was my fault. I failed him. After caring for countless potted plants since I was first gifted a small cactus when I was ten, many have perished or been shared with other gardeners. I have carefully coaxed back to vigor several that were near death.
However, because travels over the past few years keep me gone for weeks and months at a time, and I refuse to burden family or friends with undue watering chores, I have culled my high mark of over a hundred indoor plants to just a couple dozen heirloom or rare specimen I cherish and admire. Several unusual Sansevierias, Dracaenas, dwarf Agaves, Sedums, tropical cacti and succulents, and a few stalwart others share and grace my winter living space, keeping me literally in touch with Nature while sometimes suffering the nonnurturing, sometimes neglectful hand they are dealt.
I’m not trying to be a Greenery Grinch here, but not all plants will tolerate what Big Jim could. They are living, breathing creatures dependent on me to provide their basic environmental needs including light to help them produce new growth and replace older leaves, enough water to keep their roots moist but not soggy wet, and reasonable temperatures. And though many plants can go years without, I provide a little fertilizer every now and then.
By summer, my potted plants stay outside where they can get the light they need and occasional rain soakings; in winter they are arranged by height and light needs in a spacious sun specially-designed for watering when they really need it.
Sadly, stouthearted Big Jim, like several of my normally durable in-ground landscape plants, browned out after over three months of exceptional heat and not a drop of life-sustaining rain. By the time I got to him he was completely defoliated, his desiccated roots withered and my zealous attempts to revive the plant led to root rot.
So yeah, this wizened old horticulturist, after decades of doing what it needed to keep going, was negligent, well beyond what was survivable. Biggest regret is not being around to resurrect Big Jim from a cutting when I missed a little sprig that had gasped out before withering. Now his remains are resting in the compost pile, preparing to enrich future plants.
Bottom line for potted tropical plants: Give them bright light, ensure the leaf-drying heating system is not blowing on them constantly (no, misting doesn’t help), water only as needed, and give them an occasional shot of houseplant fertilizer. Maybe occasionally dust their leaves.
Then love and admire them while you can. Compost in peace, Big Jim. I’ll miss your fiery red new foliage.
Felder Rushing is a Mississippi author, columnist, and host of the “Gestalt Gardener” on MPB Think Radio. Email gardening questions to rushingfelder@yahoo.com
