My happy place: University of Oxford Botanic Garden (ft. baby succulents)
My brothers and I spent a good deal of our childhoods in the midst of remodeling work being done to our house. From new flooring, to repainted rooms, to a completely gutted kitchen, in the twelve years I lived at my childhood home, I don't remember a time when some part of it wasn't half-finished, blocked off by a sheet of translucent plastic. As a result, spent a lot of time in Lowe's buying paint, stain for the deck, planks of wood, cement, etc. etc.
It was during one of these Lowe's runs that I saw something that took root in my heart: a Venus flytrap. In a Lowe's. In an individual pot. Perfectly sized for little ten-year-old hands.
For those of you who don't know, Venus flytraps are carnivorous plants with a hinge-like jaw that they can close to catch and dissolve insects. And to a ten-year-old biology nerd, the thought of having one in my house was the coolest thing ever. (And for the record, it's still that cool.)
I begged and begged my mom to spend $3 on this tiny Venus flytrap for me, and she caved. So I got to cradle this plastic pot with one rosette of traps in it, carefully placing it on my windowsill at home. I doted on it, finding dead ants and flies to put in the traps, carefully watering it with a measuring cup. It lasted about two weeks before we went on a family vacation to Disney World, I forgot all about making plant-sitting arrangements, and I came home to a withered, dead stem.
Fast-forward about ten years to Oxford, England. I was still the same massive biology nerd (I've been told I'm a lot of fun on trips to the zoo and/or aquarium), and I desperately needed a nature fix. By some miracle, my friend Kayla and I stumbled upon (literally, got lost and randomly wound up there) Oxford University's Botanic Gardens.
There is something special about a place that's sole purpose is to nurture life. And there is something extra special about Oxford's Botanic Gardens. Maybe it was because the greenhouses, called glasshouses there, were so humid and warm, and we had been deprived of heat for so long. Or maybe it was because everything was green and alive, while everything outside was brown and dead for winter. Or maybe it was because inside, with not another soul in sight, surrounded by dangling vines and brilliant yellow flowers, it felt a little bit like we were in an actual jungle. Which, to a biology nerd, is very, very cool.
The Oxford University Botanic Garden is the oldest botanic garden in all of Britain. It was founded in 1621 to conduct medicinal research, and it still holds scientific purposes today. The grounds are vast and filled with plant growth year round, making for a scenic walk even during the winter. Kayla and I packed lunches and became too attached to two ducks in love playing in a fountain during one of our visits (if anyone sees a duck with an injured foot in the gardens, please throw him some food).
The glasshouses were my favorite spot in the entire city. There were palm trees and coconuts, pitcher plants and lilies, lemon and orange trees. It was life, and life abundant. I could (and, in fact, did) spend countless minutes crouching and staring at the pond in the Lily House or trying to find every yellow plant to match my rain jacket. One glasshouse even included the corpse flower, which is a giant flowering plant that smells like rotting meat to attract flies for pollination. It is native to the rainforests of Sumatra, and this was the first time I'd ever seen one in person.
And there they were in one of the glasshouses: Venus flytraps. I couldn't help but think of my failed Lowe's treasure ten years earlier, and how the joy they brought me then mirrored the joy I felt now. Oxford's Botanic Gardens became my safe space: where I could go to recharge and be happy, surrounded by life in all its quirks—from the hairy tentacles of the sundew, to the prickly cacti towering to the ceiling.
So, a year later, when a cold snap during an unseasonably warm winter left me feeling drained and craving something green, I went straight to Lowe's, like any sane person would. They didn't have Venus flytraps, but they did have a wide assortment of a house-plant that I can't believe I had yet to obtain: succulents.
With two window-box terra cotta planters, a bag of Miracle-Gro, assorted rocks, a bag of peat moss, five succulents, and a miniature cactus (I've also got a soft spot for these prickly guys because it's like I'm living in a desert! So cool!) in tow, I returned home with my bounty and joy in my heart that can come from only green things.
My room now has hipster aesthetic like never before, and I get to keep a little piece of the same rest and rejuvenation found in the botanic gardens with me at all times.
