by Mary Johnson As a child, each year in mid-May I would walk to the edge of the woods on our property in New Hampshire to look for the pink lady's slippers (Cypripedium acaule). I knew I’d find them just as I had the previous year and the year before that one. Spread out in the glistening meadow before me in the early light of morning, the drooping pouches on slender stalks seemed to glow from within like tiny lanterns. I liked to imagine them illuminating a path for the dee
By Lainey One of my earliest memories was of staring out the window of a daycare provider’s house, wondering how I ended up at this strange place. She had a spider plant and one day, along with handing me over, she gave my mom a baby from this plant. If you’ve never had a spider plant, know this; There is no need to ever buy a spider plant. They are prolific at reproduction -- think bunnies of botany -- foisting their babies into the world with seeming abandon. Even half-dead
by Sally Lin Growing up, I always watched my grandma tending to many different plants in her garden. She had all sorts of plants. Those I remember best were the flowers jasmine and gardenia that bloom at dusk and produce this sweet aroma that filled the air. Even now, when I smell jasmine it brings back memories and I once again feel like a child. I adored those flowers for their sweet smell and they were always my favorite. However, they also sparked my curiosity because unl
by Cheryl Moorhead Stone My grandmother, Grammy, was a back-to-the-earth hippie decades before the actual movement started in the 1960s. She and my grandfather, Grampy (Grumpy may have been more apt), moved to their cottage in Western Pennsylvania each year on Memorial Day. They lived there until Labor Day when they reluctantly headed back to the Locust Street house in town. The cabin was small and rustic. A well on the hill above the cabin provided cold water to the kitch
by Josée Methot “Can you remember a time when you experienced awe?”, asked my friend. My heart jumped: “yes, of course.” The sunflowers. As if on replay, my mind formed the image: my mother in her garden, her short frame delicate against towering sunflowers; their big bobble heads bouncing against the late summer sky. I was a kid and I was mesmerized. These weren’t just plants — they were giants. There was a village of giants in my backyard, and my mother was their overall-cl
by Lizz Waring Lizz shares the story of learning to love plants on a school field trip... Transcript: This is Lizz Waring from Texas Tech and she is going to tell us her plant love story. This is my plant Love Story involving a 19th century president and how he made me fall in love love with plants. So when I was in Middle School I lived in Northwestern Ohio in a little tiny town called Oak Harbor, which was near the city of Fremont, which you’ve also probably never heard of.
by Lesley Evans Ogden This week we bring you another story from our Plant Love Stories Live event held recently at North American Congress on Conservation Biology in Toronto. This week's story is by Lesley Evans Ogden. You can hear her story using the video link below A transcript of her story is available below: Growing up in rural Ontario just north of Kingston, my family lived next door to a farm. The farmers were a friendly and generous family and my brother and I were g
by Megan Cate Dandelions are technically an invasive weed. Many think they are lawn nuisances and dedicate the spring and summer to killing them in any way possible. While dandelions may die and stay out of your lawn, there is usually one straggler whose bud peeks its way up in a driveway crack or other remote location. When my sister, Allison, and I were young (under 4 years old), we spent hours outside our rural home in Capac, Michigan. One of our fondest memories is of our