I was sitting in the living room on my black, comfy recliner, resting my aching back, the result of the last two hours of gardening.

I was enjoying the music that was playing on the stereo until my eyes drifted around the room and spotted my drooping Dieffenbachia, sitting on a storage trunk, in front of the main window. There were four more plants in the same area that didn't look to be in the same condition as the Dumb Cane, (nickname), so I got up out of the recliner and walked over to my second oldest plant that was looking really sad.

Hey, what's wrong baby? (I talk to my plants.) Not doing so good eh? I checked the moisture in the soil and it's still a bit moist. At least it isn't a hard, dry pan, pulling away from the inside of the pot. The tips of your leaves aren't turning brown, so no water problem.

I knew that the soil was extremely old and I needed to repot the plant but I had given it plant food throughout the summer, maybe not enough.

My boyfriend watered off and on, so I called him inside to show him the Dumb Cane.

"Look at this plant. Do you know what's happened to it"

"Nope. It was fine the last time I watered it. I even put a few handfuls of that potting soil, from the gardening box out front and covered the entire top about an inch thick. It seems to be in need of new soil. What do you think is wrong with it?"

"I'm not sure, but it might miss my chats with it. Maybe it feels ignored. This entire summer has kept me outside."

"Ya right, ignored," and he walked outside.

I went over to the sick plant to have a closer look.

Hey baby, what's wrong with you? You know, I've had you, well your parents, grand parents, even great grandparents before you, for over forty years. That's where you came from. I even have your kid in a vase with water, on the kitchen window sill. It's been there for the past year. My brother wants it but hasn't come by to pick it up and plant it in his own pot.

You have to get better, you are the biggest and oldest of your family here and no relative of yours ever quit on me. They would get too big to move and I'd give them a trim and start new plants from the cuttings to give away. You all represent me and where my life is at. People laugh when I tell them your nickname, Dumb Cane and tell them, that if the leaves are ingested, they will paralyze your vocal chords and you can't talk for quite awhile.

A very sneaky weapon that definitely wards off little kids. Even though they are fascinated by your beautiful light green and white, large, oval with a pointed end, leaves, once they hear your story, they all stay away.

I'm just going to push back the soil that's covering your trunk, so I can see if there is a problem somewhere below. I'll be gentle, I promise.

Oh my, I didn't have to go under the soil very much and I think I know what's happening. Your trunk has gotten so thick and heavy, that the one support stick that you're tied to isn't enough to hold all of your trunk up and you've slid down the stick, bending to lie flat on four inches of your trunk.

You are struggling to grow root hairs on that part that's covered up with the new soil. But you will, I know you will.

You know, you've been like a mirror for me, all of you guys have. When you are down and out, showing dull colors in your leaves, with droopy leaf stems and brown tips that suddenly appear, and not seeing too much, new growth, it tells me that there is something wrong with me. You are like a mirror to my soul and I always take your message seriously, to find and correct that which is wrong in my life. So you see, you can't leave me or I'll never be the same gal that cares for you now. I love all of you guys.

I'll go outside and look for a better stick to tie you to that can hold you up better and take a bit of stress away from that damaged part of your trunk. Don't know if it will be today though, I need to finish my job out front now.

So you hang in there and never give up cause I know you are going to touch the ceiling one day, just like your family before you did.

And besides all of that, how do you think your buddy here beside you, that's growing between some of your leaves helping you stay upright, would feel if you died and you're no longer his sidekick? Food for thought.

Alright then, I'll get on with looking for that support stick later and yes , it's a bit early to close the drapes but now you can rest easier.

I say goodnight as I walk towards the door, with slightly, teary eyes. I love my plants and some of them have been with me for so long. A part of me would go with them if they died and I'd be terribly upset if there wasn't a section of them in a vase rooting, to keep the strain alive.

Gotta find that sturdy stick.