I can’t remember who purchased it – whether it was one of us or a moving-into-your first-home gift – but it appeared in our lives when we bought our first property together. 25 years ago.
Over the years, it survived the vicissitudes of being cared for by my less-than-green fingers where other plants keeled over and carked it left, right and centre. All it seemed to require was a bit of water now and again when one of us remembered. Yes, it went through some very difficult spells, hence the period where there were no leaves at all on the bottom two foot of the stem and just a couple of determined ones right near the top.
In so many ways, it mirrored our relationship and its ups and downs. The times when it seemed as if it would wither away and die and then the resurgence of new shoots coinciding with our procreation of a child or the purchase of a new toy.
The advent of the trogladyte phase of our teenagers using the room to watch television constantly meant that the room remained in a permanent half-dark with the blinds drawn. The Rubber Plant was starved of the light it needed to retain its hold on life.
When I noticed it this time, there was one small shoot right at the bottom. I watered and repotted but, putting it back into the same room, under the same conditions just perpetuated the original problem and, at the beginning of the year, it finally gave up the ghost.
Rather like our marriage.
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