2019-06-27 - House Plant Difficulty Rating: Persnickety

It's a lovely June-uary evening in the Pacific Northwest, with the never-ending day hours making for a light-filled, drizzly end to the day. Ully, the college grad summer hire, is minding the shop interior while August works in the outdoor garden, cutting back the deadheads from the May irises, pruning, and planting a few new acquisitions (plants he ordered for Byron's plan; he'll test them out in this shop garden first). He's got a rain poncho and a foldable gardening hat to keep the rain off him while he works.

A few rabbits hunker under the protection of a wisteria, wanting to go gnaw on the grass but wary of him. A magpie sits on the shop's weather vane, surveying the proceedings with a shrewd, dark eye.

Sometimes it's a bit of a 'huh' moment to be a grown ass adult who has never been in a business that deliberately houses living things. In fact, after Lilith parks her black Nissan rental SUV and takes a moment with the visor flipped down to put her hair up as precaution (and stall to think about what to ask), she realizes she's never been in a flower shop, greenhouse, or even a pet shop. It's weird to think of and suddenly she's just a little exasperated at herself as she eyes the mirror and blows her cheeks with deliberate puff at the image before it's flipped closed for her to exit vehicle.

Being a local, the off and on levels of drizzle and wet don't much phase the brunette and she takes a moment with the flush greenery of the warm season that all the wet brings, ambling instead of hurrying inside to shop front directly. Eventually she gets there and to the counter.

Wearing a long and airy-sleeved sapphire blue mini-romper that's all bare legs beyond the decorative white trim and Moroccan embroidery, her outfit is a pretty level of casual she has accessorized with red lace-up sandals. Wearing light accent cosmetics which consist mostly of flush gloss and mascara, most of her hair is piled up and twisted in lazy, escaping knot away from her face, "Hi. I have some questions more so than an order. I heard your proprietor is... well, not you. Is he in?" What has she heard to know it's not Ully? Doesn't matter, point stands.

Ully's used to this sort of thing. He's an entire twenty three years old, after all; no one's going to believe he runs these two businesses, not for a hot second. He grins at Lilith, unperturbed by the insinuation. "You mean you heard he's twice my age and takes a whole lot of getting used to?"

August comes in from the display garden, pulls off his poncho and hat. "Excuse you," he says to Ully, who just laughs and gestures at him. "There he is, ma'am." He returns to the straightening up he was in the midst of; the 'hipster trinkets' section, as August calls it, is often left in disarray when tourists get into it.

August leans against the counter, gives Lilith a look. An overly long, hyperciritical sort of look. The kind of look people who Glimmer give other people who can when they don't know one another. Like a barnyard goose sizing up someone new to the property, he's wary.

The scrutiny is over almost as soon as it's begun. He looks aside, folds his arms. "What can I do for you."

There's a few things Lilith has mostly accustomed to since returning to town in spring after long hiatus and one of those things is people flinching, wincing, staring, and/or giving her a certain wary look like August is now. She wishes she was dumb enough to think it's because she's a certain level of pretty, but no. Does that mean it doesn't bother her for x number of reminders and reasons or that she's accustomed to seeing someone with the same standout oomph as her? Ehh.

August doesn't get much ruffle or pause, but the brunette does take her own moment to study him and peer right back with her big keen blue eyes, and she's not quite wary of him. In fact, after flitting eyes around, the surroundings are where the wariness tends to bleed on her own front for a heartbeat or two-- he gets more level curiosity laced with the subtle defense mechanism of being ready for -whatever- given her shifting weight between hips and posture.

"Hey. So this isn't really anything I can't google, but it seemed like an overwhelming place to start. And the internet can't account for what you keep in growth and stock, therefore anything I taught myself in preparation might be easier with certain plant facts narrowed down." She pauses here with a tip of her chin to August, explaining, "I have some wonderings spurred by a self-projects of sorts if you have a few. Plant wonderings."

Over the last three years August has gotten used to being eyed by people he has to assume are at least a little like himself. As a result, he just gives Lilith's returned curiosity a bland look. The actual topic she came to discuss gets him more interested.

"Sure." He nods at a small, outdoor garden table and chairs which have been set up indoors as a spot to sit and rest or have a chat in a space other than the back office. The table's a mosaic of glass and ceramic set in concrete, bright, full colors to ward off the dreary days of Gray Harbor, while the chairs are sturdy synthetic, maybe Trex or a similar material. There's a water cooler next to it; August grabs a compostable cup from the stack, glances over his shoulder at Lilith. "Water?"

Lilith shakes her head small and solid at the offering of water from the cooler from August and settles down in one of the chairs to touch appreciatively with idle fingertips at a glass mosaic piece inset to tabletop, "No, I'm alright, thank you. I'm Lilith Winslow, by the by. I run the town pawn shop if you're ever... in pocket debt or into an urge to look at random junk." It's not a plug so much as one of those business owner exchanges that happens during intro.

Absently, she crosses one leg over the other and checks her toenail polish visibly while he's at the cooler, thinking a beat before wondering, "What's the easiest houseplant to keep alive?"

August nods, settles himself opposite Lilith and leans back in the chair, sips from his water. He makes a low sound, bobs his eyebrows. "I'll keep it in mind. We also deal with trees, if you've got that kind of problem on your hands." A similar offering in kind. Who doesn't wind up with a tree creating problems for them in this area.

He tilts his head at the question, looking amused. "Chlorophytum. Spider plant. You'll wind up with about a million of them since they reproduce like crazy, so you can give them away to friends, or," he shrugs, "make a lot of compost. Ficus, if you want a tree. Hoya or good ol' English ivy, if you want a vine, but," he makes a face, "don't grow English ivy, it's invasive and terrible. Hoya's nice, smells good, tolerates low light really well." And yet he mentions the ivy, knowing full well it's a favorite of many. Well, his peers can cope. August is a businessman.

Considering Lilith's way of dealing with a rogue, dick tree might be setting it on fire with first efficient instinct toward shrinking or removing the nuisance... she seems a little touched with realization that maybe people taking care of a tree problem for her might be handy as a service one day. After making a noise in her own throat that says it's something to keep in mind both with that realization and general subdued exchange of politeness, there's a vague pull at the brunette's lips with smile before she takes to focusing visibly on what's explained as answer to her wondering.

After getting one angle of answer, she gets curious all over again from different angles, the foot of her crossed over leg bending at the ankle one way, then the other with occasional wiggle while dangling in contemplative fashion. Other than that, she's pretty still and casual attentive, and that tiny movement from her that indicates the noise of whatever's going on up top while she takes in what's give and turns about what comes next, it's close to the human version of reclining feline tail twitches during conversation.

"Mm. Considering how many little spiders bust out of egg-sacs, fitting. Alright. So. Let's turn it. What's the hardest houseplant to keep alive? The most delicate. And what's a good middle ground between the pair, you think?"

"Hardest is more to do with where you are and what you're trying to grow." August finishes off his water, sets the cup aside. "Here, we have lower light levels in general, and we run our heaters a lot so the indoor air is dry. Tropicals like, banana plants, or orchids, they're real tough to keep happy. Same thing with some of the ferns, and gardenias--people love them because of the scent? But they're real finicky."

He rubs his arms, expression going distant as he considers a middle ground. "Middle ground," he murmurs, thoughtful. "That's a bit harder to say. Are you looking for something specific?" He raises his eyebrows. "A challenge, but not something you have no chance of growing?"

"Yes. It's not so much that I want a garden or something to just sit in the room and look green and pretty. I actually want to see the life variables and limits ticking on something alive and those are easier to see when comparing plants, perhaps. It's..." Lilith twitches her lips a little as August catches on that she may want something perfectly ordinary for out of the ordinary reasons, but she stops herself from elaborating before she sounds too weird. Instead, she pops a lean on elbow against the table edge with shift and recross of legs, head shaking a smidge, "I like to know how things tick. And I've never kept plants before."

"But no, other than convenience of size for indoors, I have no real preference. Or the ability to know enough to state a preference. And I'm sure you know what just googling a plant is like with no solid clue what you're actually looking for. I did that for five minutes and decided to talk to a conveniently located person." The woman pauses a moment while looking aside with her profile to August, momentarily putting her chin and jaw in rest of palm while leaning, then she swaps eyes back to wonder, "How long have you worked with plants?"

August's eyes narrow a fraction at the phrase 'how things tick'. It seems to make him uncomfortable in some way or another. He shifts in his chair, distracts himself from his reaction to that statement by thinking over the rest of what she says. "In that case, I'd say you want one of each to start. So you got an idea on the other two, for your middle ground, there's Crassula. Another succulent." He squints, shrugs. "You could try avocado, Adenium, Coleus, mock orange, pebble plants..."

He sits up, puts his elbows on the table. "Most of these, the real issue is they get thirsty at certain times of the year, or have a complex watering cycle, or they need a lot of light, so you have to be ready to move them around the house. There's some orchids that aren't as hard as the usual, for example, and some ferns, but a lot are harder than people realize because they're sensitive. Some things, like the spider plants, they don't care much." Another of those shrugs. "It's just how they are." He makes a sound, gestures. "You also need to keep in mind, if you have pets or kids, some of these are toxic to them." He doesn't ask if she does, however, just puts it out there.

He huffs a laugh at the question. "A little over twenty years now. Started in college, didn't look back."

"Okay. Wow, that's a lot of plant and chlorophyll exposure. They ever start talking back? Because twenty years, I -know- you've talked to some of them at length." Lilith murmurs with a vague lift of her eyebrows at August before she gets the wits to pull out her phone from her beaded shoulder bag left next to the chair where she sits, briefly moving with downward lean before straightening. Then her fingers are flying to take notes of some of the things mentioned because he's going into multiple suggestions now and it's the better thing to do when you actually want the information to stick. She puts note of 'sensitive' next to the more simple to remember orchid and ferns bit.

She probably doesn't expect an actual answer to her question about the plants talking back so much as she's making a kind of wry and dry joke. Then she bats her lashes, "Do you have something to suggest that's a rare state of delicate -and- pretty? You were saying some of the orchids were sensitive, and I know I've heard of rare orchids before." The brunette's hand lifts to rub at one side of her neck with drag to collarbone while thinking how to explain someone in polite fashion most visibly, phone still in other hand ready to notate. But polite apparently takes a back door with too much effort somewhere in the middle of the sentence, a humored huff of breath chasing words, "You know the type. Impressed by difficulty and rarity and cost and-- let's call it your snobbiest plant. A presentation flower to brag about for a rich bastard with hired means for care."

August just looks at Lilith when she mentions talking to plants. She's joking, yet given what he is and what he can sense she is he can't take it as such. His look is, therefor, the sort of blank, 'I am so not reacting to that' non-reaction which is, in and of itself, a tell, or at least it is considering how plainly he has the gift. Twenty years of working with plants even suggests what he does with it. He's well aware of these things, and more than a bit sulky that he has no way to mask it.

But her comment about needing a flower to impress a sob pulls him off that track. "Ah," he says, and oh boy does he look amused now. "Yes, I do know the type." His tone's dry, and he even smiles. He sits back in his chair again, thinks that over. "If you want to really impress someone, our native, local orchids are the way to go. The slippers are the showiest--Cypripedium and Calypso. And the stream orchid's pretty good one there too, Epipactis. There's actually a fair number of North American orchids, but, they tend to look less like the average non-plant person thinks an orchid should look. Everyone's always expecting them to look like the Asian and South American orchids." He rolls his eyes in a 'what can you do' sort of way. "I carry the mountain lady slipper since it's native to this specific area, so you can check one out if you want."

Does Lilith know the extent to which August goes with plants and what can be done? Gauging power and inclination while staring at each other a few heartbeats because of life and where they live is one thing, knowing what someone can do to or with living greenery because of it, though... with all these questions, it might be out of her familiar wheelhouse, potential aside. So when he gives her that blank non-reaction to the joke, she sniffs a little like he's just grumpy and puts both hands to texting name notation again in her little opened file. She backspaces through the spelling of one of them with murmured sound-out repeat over her lips while finicky correcting type.

"Do you? I think I'd like the mock orange or comparable to take home, if you have it for certain as a middle ground for today, but I'm curious what your in-stock bitchy princess plant looks like, now. Naturally, I want to be awed." Lilith vaguely rises a brow after she finishes with her phone notes and August makes the tidbit known with offering, uncrossing her legs with preparation to rise. And while she's been perfectly pleasant enough and polite and casual forward with conversation, she's been a little stingy with the smiles that match social politeness, as if hoarding them for appropriate moments instead of wasting them or keeping some sense of personal reserve out of habit.

So when a smile comes, it comes quick and notable for quip and sentiment on rising, flash of shining gratitude coming and going like a pretty lightning bolt, "Let's see if it gets -my- rocks off." The matter of having proverbial rocks is neither here nor there.

August is, indeed, grumpy most of the time, so he accepts Lilith's brief reaction as his due. "Yeah, mock orange works well as a starter for 'not easy' but 'nice to have' and 'needs a bit of attention' without getting into the real picky ones."

He coughs at her comment, smile turning to wry consternation. "Yeah, sure thing," he says, getting up from his seat. He tosses the cup into a compost container, gestures for Lilith to follow. "Ully, I'll be out in the greenhouse," he calls, and Ully pops his head out from around a rack of gardening hardware to give a thumbs up.

Outside they go for a brief walk through the drizzle to the left-hand enclosed greenhouses. The path between outdoor plant, pot, and other gardware displays is crushed shell and rock; it crunches under August's boots as he goes. Their passage startles a cluster of chickadees out of a group of young Japanese maples and up into an aspen along the property.

There's a number of ways this walk could go and Lilith knows it from happenstance. So naturally, she starts to imagine the worst case scenario the closer they get to the actual greenhouse because she's never been in one, there's plants in bulk with different levels of sensitivity and delicacy, and she... cuts that shit out pretty immediately before it turns into something she's decided this moment isn't going to be. She starts using the mental math of how much a mass scale mood and control whoopsie might -cost- her out of pocket as an intermediary mental distraction tactic surrounded by plants in a controlled environment. It works and her mood is honestly fine, so she shouldn't worry and turn all that 'fine' into counterproductive stress of 'what if'.

Of course, she doesn't say any of this, nor does Lilith look particularly worried, she's just real quiet while walking and observing as if there's a whole lot suddenly kicking around up top. Her fingertips pluck like a tick at a dampened and loose stray strand of hair falling out on her neck a little incessantly before eventually the hand is forced away to drop to natural fall... really close to her sides. That. That's her tell. She's not outwardly anxious but she also simultaneously has the approach of a bull knowingly entering a china shop... she keeps distances and doesn't touch a THING outside or in.

However. The lay of the land does draw compliment out of her she seems to mean on the way, "You have a pretty nice setup out here. Better than Elm, hm?" Yes, everywhere else is better than Elm, technically, but that's the joke, isn't it?

August leads her onward, unaware of all of this. "Eh, Elm can be fine too. Just depends on how it gets taken care of, not everyone's got the time, money, or energy, you know?" No judgment in his tone; he's aware he has all three of those in enough quantity to live in a cabin in the woods with animals ands a working garden, by himself, and run a joint business, and that it's not something many others can do.

Inside the greenhouse comfortably warm and gently humid, avoiding the overbearing, misty nature that can plague such structures in the summer. A little water gathers on the transparent, arced roof and walls, though none drips. The plants are carefully arranged and spaced so nothing's crowded. This isn't like a Lowes or a Home Depot; these plants could happily live in here, side-by-side, if they had to. Some are potted in basic, plastic, transfer pots, others are kept in examples of the nicer, artist pots or the freeze-proof pots available for purchase.

A long series of stands and benches down the center divides the Quanset-style greenhouse into two aisles, with rows and stands of plants along either wall and filling the center divider. August heads down the right-hand side; at the far end, Lilith can see a trio of small, shrub-like plants with green leaves that have been trained up into a tree conformation. "There's a few things called mock orange--these are Murraya, not to be confused with Philadelphus. To keep 'em separate some people call this one orange jasmine instead." The smallest of the three is maybe only three feet tall, while the largest is closer to August's own height, and in a much larger, fancy pot set on a dolly. He reaches down to finger a leaf of the smaller one. "This little one won't bloom as much as the big one since it's a bit younger, but it's also cheaper and easier to move around like this. I uusally suggest putting these on a dolly if you let it get real big, makes them easier to shift around."

He turns, gestures at part of the center display. At this end are two racks of the previously mentioned slipper orchids. The pouch is vibrant white, veined in purple, backed by four twisted, purple-black petals and bearing a yellow, black-spotted throat. "These are your slippers. There's a lot involved in taking care of them, but if you want to spend the time on it, can do." He pauses, gives her a narrowed eyed look for half a second. It's the kind of look which might presage a comment like 'especially someone like you', except, all he says is, "Roen. August Roen." Because, of course, he never introduced himself when lilith did, like the recalcitrant bastard that he is.

Lilith likes the small one, despite August claiming it won't naturally flower as much as the others might quite yet. Unlike a lot of hobbyist and non-hobbyist women that are in it for the blooms and spend time checking bud potential for the calculated, ready appearance of a lovely garden alone, she takes time to lean down for a moment with her hands resting in careful, held back brief against her thighs while doing so. While looking at the indicated mock orange genus and species explained once it's introduced, her head tilts some and her eyes cut with the barest narrow of study while looking at the potted base, the central stemming line, then the angles of the leaves and buds branching and unfurling out from there.

If he didn't know better, her study might look professional or thoughtful, but she's established she's a novice and he has a particular way about the set of eyes in his head, so... mostly it just looks a little intense for a beat and weird with hyperfocus considering plants historically haven't been her thing. Nothing's happening, she's not doing anything that he can see coming off as 'funny' either, and she straightens to follow to the princess orchid selection after wondering two very different, distinct things that are totally unrelated, "Do you ever name plants when you keep them? And were you born in August? Because I actually like the name, but there's some things that mothers shouldn't -do- to their children in the name of 'cute' forgetting that babies, you know, grow up."

She's kind of a strange mix of reserved and conversationally unfiltered while keeping some semblance of distance from the delicate 'slipper' varieties on display that come next. Because, yes, she's talking and apparently has no bashful bone to stop her from curiously wondering those two things aloud. But she's also got her hands laced with finger hold behind her back and practically slides inches closer to have a look at the actual petals or... something. Maybe she's just afraid with how sensitive he says these things are, it'll just keel over or she'll knock the pot while summarizing murmur of approval after survey, "It's not as flashy as I expected, but that doesn't matter... the petals look like they're dew fed on principle. Suitable, considering I asked for the royal bint of all pretty plants."

August watches Lilith as she inspects the mock orange, plainly curious. Nothing happens, though, so he makes no remarks. In respone to the comment about flashiness, he pulls out his phone, swipes here and there at it. "Fairy slipper or stream orchid looks a little flashier, but we don't get a lot of requests for those so I don't carry them. I could order one, if you wanted. This one's a little more common in Washington, so I get more buyers for it." He holds his phone out--a modest model, nothing fancy--and on the screen are two other orchids, these a bit more complicated looking. One is purple and green, with stripes on the central body and a flash of orange and yellow in the throat; the other has a fan of bright pink petals and a heavily interior that's not especially pouch-like in the manner of the mountain lady slipper.

He snorts at the question. "No," he says. An entire, lengthy explanation is lurking in that one word answer he gives. It's palpable by his expression. He's clearly not the kind of person to offer that information, even if he did find the question amusing. He nods at the orchids. "Want to take one of these with you two, or just one of the Murraya?"

The 'no' is honestly good enough for Lilith for a few reasons, but given the drag and tone of her voice, it sounds like the largest reason is that she was ready to snort, offer condolences, and move on with a shake of her head if August had an August birthday, and shamelessly too. He doesn't seem easily offended and because of that, she's not bothering to mask things with a polite chuckle that might come out of others, "Gooooood. Tch."

After speaking, though, her eyes continue to consider his shown out phone screen and she gestures to one of the images, then the near orchid, then the nice intermediary mock orange, planning aloud to confirm, "I'll take the..." It sounds like Mariah when she says it but whatever, "Murraya. And this delicate princess. And the stream orchid order. And I'll pay for all three today. But this orchid can wait until the other comes and transport can be arranged, it's better to leave it with you for now."

Lilith kind of breezes over that and might want this intermediary plant to take home today in the meantime to get settled first. That or the other plant isn't going where she's going, who knows. Then she starts to walk in a bit of a hurry to get out of the greenhouse and once out with company, she gradually looses a breath she might not have realized she'd been partially holding all the while. She also doesn't bother asking how much any of it is and just goes to get her bag to pay after being guided out, speaking aside, "I'll leave my number so you can let me know when it's in or whatever else. Thanks for being patient with me. And I actually kind of liked meeting you too." It sounds like a lackluster compliment phrased so casual like that, but hey, it's a compliment, take it, she means it fine.

"I'd have changed it if they had, or be using the middle name," August admits. He feels compelled to agree with her that the things some parents do to their children when naming them are, in fact, agregious beyond telling, maybe because Lilith's only reaction to his typical stoniness is something he can read as relief.

He raises his eyebrows at the request for two of the orchids, but makes no complaints, just nods. "Got it," he says, makes a note on his phone. He pockets it, leans over to take up the mock orange as Lilith all but flees the greenhouse. He stands like that for a moment, holding the tree-trained shrub by the main stalk, looking after her. He shakes his head and follows after a few seconds.

Ully gets her rung up, offers her a small piece of cardstock with a URL and a QR code. "Information on how to care for this one from our website," he explains, patting the pot. "Recipes for homemade fertilizer if you don't want to buy any, too."

August accepts the phone number with a nod, hands it off to Ully along with his phone, which has the order information pulled up so he can finalize it. "You too," August says. He sounds like he means it. Mostly. "We'll call soon as the orchid's in."

Then it's back out into the front garden to finish up pruning.