Giants of the Jungle

They conjure feelings in me. Feelings of goodness and safeness and wholeness; also of fascination and wonder. Every time I see one, the effect is healing, like a much-needed cup of tea. Those broad, benevolent leaves with their strips and perforations. A deep, peaceful recognition and a tinge of loss. Nobody knows what they do mean to me; what they mean to me.

Monstera Delicosa – the Swiss Cheese plant. There was one in the house of my childhood. It must have been around from my pre-conscious years to imprint on me so deeply. It was our giant friend; sprawling outwards from a huge earthenware pot, taking up an entire corner of the room, offering a mini-jungle to crawl behind, with ungainly stems supported hopefully by a rickety structure of bamboo poles and string, and ariel roots splaying to the floor like dreadlocks. Those huge, perforated leaves, like tigers’ faces, fascinating and beguiling to the infant gaze. All of that much-loved individuality offering its example.

A family friend of ours, who later became a well-known childrens’ author. wrote a story for my sister and I, in which the plant grew uncontrollably throughout the house, a creeping jungle that probed and protected; offering cover, co-conspiratorial with our childhood mischief.

In reality, our plant ended up taking a journey too far. One summer it was taken into the back yard for a holiday. Summer turned to autumn, and it succumbed to frost, those noble leaves and arms turning brown and rotten. Our big friendly giant was vulnerable after all. I never really knew if anyone missed it as much as I.

A few seasons later, my Dad’s new partner gave me a cutting from her own Monstera. I tended it carefully and remember the excitement of seeing each new leaf emerge as a tightly rolled-up finger of light green, optimistically poking the air, unfurling gradually and darkening. At some point in the story, that plant and I also parted company.

I’m not very keen on buying plants new from garden centres or supermarkets. It’s a soulless way of welcoming another being into your life. I prefer it when they are gifted or bequeathed. It’s been a long wait but now I have been given a Monstera by a friend. It’s a dwarf variety, but large and well-established, those slashed leaves lolling out eccentrically to welcome me every morning. It’s giving me a corner of jungle once more, and together we will take over this new house.