Beautiful Bush

I found myself staring at a bush a few nights ago while sitting in the outside dining area of our local Thai restaurant.  Stars glittered above, palm trees swayed in gentle breeze, a large white duck preened in a gurgling brook.  But I was focused on this bush.  I don’t know why.  It wasn’t in my direct line of vision and it wasn’t particularly attractive.  It was just your typical boring patch of greenery nestled between two leggy cement paths.  But as I sat there I wondered:  How much bigger would it get?  If it encroached over those legs of cement, would the gardener do a little trimming?  Did it like living close to that chemically infused imitation stream?  Did it enjoy smelling Tom Kha Gai Soup and Massaman Curry every day or would it really prefer Italian?  Other than to convert CO2 to oxygen for me what purpose could it possibly have?  Where did its' motivation to live come from?  I went through a huge bottle of beer thinking about it before moving on to my next thunderous bullet train of thought:  my jade plant.  Now THIS is a beautiful bush:

I call this “my” jade plant because I bought her when I was in college and she’s been with me for almost 45 years.  Her role in our relationship is to inject a little beauty into my life.  My role is to make sure she stays alive and healthy as she endures the bondage and discipline I impose upon her being. You see, I make her live in a pot.  That way I can keep her with me when I move…which is often.  I won’t free her to the earth…not yet.  

We've been through a lifetime of change together, she and I:  I've shrunk about half an inch in height.  She used to five inches tall.  I've gained a few pounds.  She's become humongous.  I want to keep growing, mentally anyway, and she keeps getting bigger and bushier.  I’m a father of two. She has a dozen or more offspring.  My jade is brittle and when she loses a branch I just stick it in a pot or in the ground and a new jade is born. Every time I move her, an unsolicited amputation begets a new relative.

My train of thought derails here:  Is this new relative really her offspring or is this just her in a new location?   Can two be one?  If she dies in her pot, will she essentially live on as this other plant?  If this process keeps repeating, could my precious jade achieve immortality?

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Please excuse my anthropomorphism.   It’s just a ruse.

Do plants think, see, smell, or feel?  Read this:

http://www.scientificamerican.com/article.cfm?id=do-plants-think-daniel-chamovitz

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