It is mischief night, the night before All Hallows Eve and so I thought I’d tell you about our very own monster who lives with us. He almost touches the ceiling and with each year that passes, he takes over more and more of the room. When we’ve had guests round for dinner he has been known to poke them in the back whilst sat around the table. He has also made a terrible mess of the paintwork on the walls.
But, we love him and he has certainly become one of the family. Known to us as Edam, he is a Monstera deliciosa (aka a cheese plant). MOTH bought him 24 years ago, little understanding then just how big he would grow. When we first moved in to this house three years past, we initially housed him in the conservatory on the back wall thinking it was the only area that could accommodate him. But guilt set in when we saw that he was not faring well at all. Too cold through the winter and too scorching hot in the summer he began to look decidedly unhappy. So, into the dining room he went and my-goodness, he preferred that. He has since sent forth several new leaves, each bigger and higher-reaching than the last.
It is quite fascinating to watch these leaves come into being. They appear, one at a time, from each previous leaf. A small section begins to peel away from the stem and out of this split comes an unfurled flag of green. As it un-rolls it spreads out and up, to become the leaf from which the next new one will spring.
I have always had houseplants, not only do they look nice but they are very healthy things to have in your home. I have had successes to greater and lesser extents, mainly because I am not one for mollycoddling*. I like a good robust plant that doesn’t demand specialised attention and can just get on with being, without too much fuss. But I never thought I’d have a plant that I could stand under without stooping and it still loom above me.
The thing about Edam though, is that, he seems to have become more than just a houseplant. Perhaps because of his size and therefore sheer presence, I find I feel very kindly to him and even chat to him on passing. “Good morning, Edam.” As I wander through to the kitchen to get the breakfast things out. “Good grief man, will stop growing just for a bit!” Pretty much every time I look at him. I’ve even given him a dust on occasion followed by a spritz of water and asked him if, “that felt better, now?” Is this better or worse than talking to the cats, I wonder? Perhaps I just need to get out more. But to have a living thing take up a quarter of a room and be with you for so long and that you see responding to the care you give it – how can you not treat him as more than just a thing?
I’m not quite sure where all this will take us. We have recently had to rearrange the whole dining room just to accommodate Edam and I wonder if, one day, we will come downstairs, struggle to open the door and fight our way though to find that there is a jungle to negotiate before we reach the kitchen. And do you know what, if that is the case, I can’t help thinking that we would just create a path through as best we could, gently chastise our ever-growing monster and carry on as normal with the cats prowling about their own personal indoor forest.
*I thought, having written it, I would have a look at the term mollycoddle. It seems, it comes from the seventeenth century and was used as a derogative term for someone, particularly an effeminate male, who has been overindulged and overprotected. The Molly part taking reference from the slang term of Mary which was given to low-status, often prostitute women and the coddled part is, ‘to treat overly carefully,’ often used in cooking, as in coddling an egg – to boil it very gently.