Wait! I have a confession: I don't have a garden. Not even one little flowerpot balancing on a windowsill.
However, down the street, there's an elderly friend of mine, who has a garden so vibrant, I'm convinced it could win a beauty pageant.
And somehow, I've become his unpaid assistant gardener. I sweep, weed, chase stubborn leaves out of corners, and occasionally scream when a lizard leaps out of nowhere. My payment? Unlimited access to my favorite plant: the hibiscus.
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If hibiscus were human, they would be the flamboyant celebrity of the plant world — bold colors, big petals, and zero interest in being subtle. My elderly friend's hibiscus flowers are a deep, royal red. They don't just grow — they perform. Every morning they open wide like they're saying, "Yes, world, we have arrived!"
Oftentimes, I greet my favorite plants even before greeting any humans. Don't judge me!
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You might think plants are just silent background decorations, but no. According to science, they have their own version of WhatsApp. Hibiscus and other plants communicate through chemicals, electrical signals, and even an underground root network called mycorrhizae — basically, plant Wi-Fi.
When a plant gets attacked by pests, it sends out warning chemicals so it's neighbors can prepare their own defences. Imagine one hibiscus telling another: "Brace yourself, green caterpillar on the way—and he looks hungry!"
Roots also pass messages underground, sharing food, water, and even gossip about which branch is looking a little droopy
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Spending time in that garden, I've started imagining what my hibiscus friends might be gossiping to each other about.
One, watching me sweep:
"She's back. Let's see if she uses the broom properly this time."
Another, after my elderly friend prunes it:
"Excuse me, did I ask for a haircut?"
And the whole row, after a gust of wind messes them up:
"Fashion emergency! Petals everywhere!"
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Do you know that some plants can actually call for help by releasing scents that attract insects to fight off pests. Others close their flowers or leaves when touched, like shy performers avoiding paparazzi.
The hibiscus isn't shy — but it is smart. It opens its flowers in the morning to attract pollinators, then relaxes later in the day when the job's done. If it could speak, it would say: "I'm not available after 5:00 p.m., darling."
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Helping my elderly friend with his garden isn't just a chore — it's like attending a live, leafy soap opera. Every petals, every sway in the breeze, feels like part of a story. And knowing that plants are quietly communicating makes it even more fascinating.
One day, I'll have my own hibiscus garden. Until then, I'll keep showing up at my elderly friend's, with broom in hand, ready to listen to the gossip of the petals and the secrets carried in the wind.
Therefore, the next time you walk past a hibiscus, pause for a moment. It might just be talking about you.
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| stay happy 😂 stay healthy 🥑 | share the love🫶🧡 plants love ☘️🫶 |
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| #stem #stemgeeks #Hibiscus #environment | #science #plants #gardening #storytelling |
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