Plant Psychology - Which would you rather smell?

Plant psychology also comes through smells.

Which would you rather smell? Sweet grass the Indians used in their baskets? Smoked leather? The odour of the ground in the spring after rain? The smell of the sea as you walk through the gorse on a headland in Galicia? Or the wind from the land as you come in toward Cuba in the dark? That was the odour of cactus flowers, mimosa and the sea-grape shrubs. Or would you rather smell frying bacon in the morning when you are hungry? Or coffee in the morning? Or a Jonathan apple as you bit into it? Or a cider mill in the grinding, or bread fresh from the oven? You must be hungry”

(E. Hemingway – For whom the bell tolls)

I like both the smells of the countryside and those of the city, but the countryside smells sweet, and cities could do with a bit more countryside.

Plant psychology: smells that make me hungry!

Yes. I always feel hungry when I smell mint and rosemary, basil, and oregano; or when I smell laurel drowned in tomato juice, the scent of sage at dusk, that of parsley being sprinkled from plate to plate, or the threads of timid chives showing off their pink pompom-like flowers.

Yes. Smells have always made me feel hungry.

As I gently brush the herbs on my terrace, the cloud of scent they exude envelops me. They smell of Grandma. They remind me of her and the joyful plant of basil on her windowsill.

Grandma used to say that basil is as temperamental as a King, that you need to anticipate its needs, just like a King, that it will become cantankerous on a whim, and it takes nothing for its leaves to wilt. A bit of sun, a bit of shade; it’s up to him to decide.

Grandma used to say that you should pick sage leaves when the sun is high and scorching, when the oily juice, the sap, is mostly concentrated on the leaves. That she should be torn out of the ground with her roots because she likes to be whole.

Grandma used to say that oregano blooms in May. In May, it will give you everything. It is in May that you should meet him.

When I touch the plants on the terrace, I feel Grandma lovingly caress me. I am a city girl and picking herbs in the mountains, along the riverbanks, at the foot of the hills, at dawn or dusk, is now just a happy childhood memory. But my Grandma’s tenderness is always with me.

And so, as I juggle large pots and small pots, my urban aromatic paradise takes shape: rosemary and thyme, oregano and basil, sage and mint, parsley and chives.

A green thumb? I’m more of a psychologist and I believe in Plant Psychology

I am no gardener. But I try to think like plants. To listen to them. And I find that if you pay attention, they will reveal everything. I do believe in plant psychology.

They will tell you when they need water.

They will tell you if the sunlight is too strong, or if they don’t like the shade.

They will tell you when it’s time to change the soil because they have sucked out all its nutrients.

They tell you when it’s time to prune them, and they move when they sense music. Plants communicate.

We should learn to listen to them.

That’s it.

Plant psychology: Plant a plant!

If you really don’t know what to do, grow a plant, Grandma would say. And when as a child, during the long summer afternoons, I would complain I was bored she would just hand me a random seed.

It was her mantra.

Any time I complained I found myself being handed yet another seed. My pockets were full of seeds.

If you really don’t know what to do…

Judging by my small terrace with its vegetable garden, it is obvious I really don’t know what to do!

I’m going to end with a quote:

“Are you getting too much sun, too little sun, what is it you want… more water? Less water? Why won’t you speak? Answer me!”

(Nanni Moretti – from the film “Bianca”, 1984 – talking to one of his plants which has dried out).

Also read: #meandgrandma8