I bought a beautiful small house plant in a food store. Blooming with petite dainty white flowers, its little plastic identity stick claimed it to be a Fleurette. I later discovered its complete identity as a fleurette chrysanthemum. It's a hybrid of a domestic and wild Asiatic mum known for producing endless amounts of blooms in a four inch tall pot. Its full leaves were dressed thoroughly with white blooms . It was hard to resist.
After a week of serving as a centerpiece on our dining room table, it was moved away from the window view it enjoyed to a much darker peninsula. It did not appreciate the loss of light. Its blooms browned and collapsed. Leaves, once high in the air, fell to the soil. Noticing its plight, I immediately tried to pull it out of its dive into oblivion. I moved it to a sunny table by a window to keep a small new cactus company. With cautious watering, it began to recover. The blooms didn't recur, but the leaves perked up. It was a start.
Another move confirmed my flora illiteracy further. I watered the plant with an overly generous helping of plant food. The leaves browned and dried within a day or two. Trying for a retreat, I cleaned out the plant from its pot and replanted it in poison-free fresh potting soil. Another round had passed. The plant remained alive!
It became obvious I needed to learn a thing or two about pinching and pruning. Quickly I was left with three tall surviving stalks that grew rapidly but only vertically. They could not support the ever-increasing height and they began to dangerously droop. Taking a tact only worthy of a beginner, I tried tying a leftover wide piece of ribbon around them to gain needed strength. Only a week later, two of the three thin stalks had been strangled of moisture and died away. 'Black Thumb' strikes again, I feared.
I daintily trimmed the dead stalks away from the last living branch. Now it resembled a miniature Jack-and-the-Beanstalk tree. One morning I noticed a round bud at the very top of the stalk. Could it be a flower? It was! In a few days, to my delight, a single white flower appeared. A miracle indeed! Four flowers eventually bloomed, but the tentative juncture, where the original stalks once joined, could not sustain the weight. My family and I went out shopping. When we returned, the stalk (along with my hope) had fallen like a chopped tree.
"All that is left is cut flowers" I said in disgust. I clipped the fallen stalk and placed it in a tall cup of water. There it sat for a day of two. My conscience did a tug-of-war. Should I try to replant it? Could I revive it? I finally decided that it couldn't hurt to try. I cut the base of the stalk as I would cut a tree branch for grafting. My wife suggested dipping it in a rooting mixture she had. Prepared for the worst, I carefully planted the remainder of the plant in the soil. Day after day I watched it. The plant didn't fail. In fact, it thrived!
Now the stalk is broader and healthier and the entire plant stands lower to the ground. The leaves have become slightly dry, but the blooms proliferate. What an adventure! As the picture will attest, new flowers have now appeared and the plant continues to grow. I have taken a sacred vow to pinch as necessary and train the plant to be broad and not tall. Careful watering and sun will follow. Let's see what happens next and be sure to pray! With any luck, my gardening talents will grow along with my little plant.