Two kinds

May 26th, 2011 by Dale Hobson

There are many possible polar pairs that can be described beginning “There are two kinds of people…” For example, there are those who enjoy Thuvan throat-singing, and those who don’t. Nora Flaherty, the new kid on the NCPR block, dropped by the new media office yesterday, and remarked on how much she likes our digs. I don’t think she meant the rat’s nest of cables or the drifts of paper and digital media storage. It’s the wall of windows, I think–something missing from her own newbie cubbyhole. So you might say there are two kinds of people–those who have windows, and those who don’t.



But while I was looking around the office with newly-appreciative eyes, they lighted on the geranium and the Christmas cactus soaking up sun on the window ledge. And there were more houseplants in the kitchen, and in every office up and down the hall. And outside the studio, in the glass breezeway that connects the two parts of the building, is a veritable jungle of wandering jew, ivy, potted trees and stuff that I only know by the scientific term “shrubbery.”

Apparently, there are two kinds of people–those who know what things are called, and those who don’t. Mostly, I don’t. Which may explain why I have such a “black thumb.” Nothing survives very long under my care. I’m the kind who can blissfully blog all day while surrounded by the dying screams of neglected growing things. The closest I have to indoor flora at home is in my vegetable crisper. I let a lot of stuff die in there, too.

The other kind from me is Barb Heller, who loves and nurtures all the greenery at NCPR. She just walked in behind me now to water the geranium, which, if I were given to notice such things, was probably looking a little wan, and which, if left to my mercy, would already be long deceased. Sometimes, the one kind has no appreciation for the other kind, but not in this case. Were it up to Barb, everything green would be robust as a sequoia, and as long-lived as a bristlecone pine. I feel exactly the same way; but it’s just not a task that can be safely entrusted to my care.

Comments are closed.