Reflections on a Banana Tree

When I was eleven, I planted a banana tree. I got the seed from my teacher (we had done a unit on plant life and everyone had built a terrarium and as it turns out, at the time, I had a gift for growing plants) and the seed quickly flourished into a tall, vibrant plant.

It grew strong and lush, always with bright green leaves. I proudly worked with it as it graduated from a small pot to a medium pot to a large pot. Happy were the sunshine days of summer when we could set the plant outside on the deck, to bask in the warm rays.

Sadly, my banana tree was never able to conceive fruit. Being raised indoors in Canada, it never felt the joy of being heavy with yellow fruit, the true cycle of the seasons... But I like to think it was happy in its life. I watered it diligently, I protected it from our pet dogs and cats, I kept its leaves free of dust and I cared for it when other house plants were stricken with aphids.

Tragically, one day my banana tree met an unfortunate accident when it was on the receiving end of a two-year-old's temper tantrum. Its tall vibrancy was shattered. Its soil spilled across the carpet like a grisly murder scene.

But it wasn't over! My banana tree wasn't completely unrooted- there was still hope! I carefully packed it back into its pot, whispering encouragement. I ensured it was in the best spot to catch sun but not too much sun, I watered it carefully, but my banana tree was never the same. Soon it simply gave up and withered away.

Perhaps its brush with death had made it long for the tropic temperatures of its homeland. Perhaps the realization that it would never feel those temperatures caused depression. Perhaps, feeling depressed, homesick and a shell of what it had once been, my banana tree simply gave up on life. My mother discovered its body- the once-green leaves now brown, dry and desiccated. No amount of water or fancy pot soil could save it this time. I like to think it's in a better place, now. A place where the sun is hot and the humidity is high. Or maybe it's been reincarnated as some other plant with better luck. Wherever it is, I hope it's happy (or at least fulfilling its plant duties of photosynthesis and whatnot).

...This is why I think gardening is fun.

In a side note, the two-year-old has flourished and successfully reached the age of 12. Apparently Humans: 1 and Plants: 0