Competitive gardening

Just becaue my husband grew some basil in a pot and planted a few bulbs across the street this year, he thinks that he's now ready for competitive gardening.  What is with men anyway?  This is the guy who needed to race his swim team girlfriend across the pool back in the day.  Of course, he lost.  His girlfriend, admiring that mix of bravado and foolhardiness, married him. And now he's dog-paddling his way into gardening.

Our sporting event was houseplant renovation.  The subject to hand was, I think, a dieffenbachia which had been adopted, nameless and straggly, as a sprout. Some years later, it was still nameless and straggly but awkwardly large.

So back in July, we unpotted the plant and cut the stalk in two.  My better half, confident that he had selected the plant's better half, potted up the root ball.  I can't be certain, but I think that he was smirking as he walked off holding his selection.  All I had left was a bunch of floppy leaves on a stem.

 

Repotted, the two separate parts were pretty sorry looking specimens.  The top portion needed stakes and string to hold it upright. The bottom portion looked like a plant in the early stages of assembly.

A few months later, and both plants look pretty darn good.  That part without roots grew roots; that without leaves grew leaves.

The new leaves are slightly yellow, probably due to a lack of fertilizer, too much sunlight, or some other fault of the competition.

 

Of course, I think that my plant is the winner. At least, it's greener. Maybe size isn't the only thing that matters!