Originally Published In The Deseret News -- Wednesday, January 26, 1994
Almost everyone Larry Sagers knows has at one time or another murdered a fern. The well-known USU Extension Service horticulturist recently asked some 70 friends and associates if any of them had ever killed a Boston fern. Only two had not, and neither had ever owned one.
Which brings me to the question of what kind of people Sagers associates with - certainly not native Bostonians who would automatically know that their namesake plant belongs in that steambath of a state, Massachusetts, instead of an arid place like Utah.
Unfortunately, I have to admit, I'm one of those kind of people - a self-confessed serial fern killer. Every Boston fern I've ever known (and there have been more than I feel comfortable admitting) has died under somewhat suspicious circumstances shortly after it came under my care.
The problem is, the Nephrolepis or sword fern family to which the Boston belongs, prefers full sunlight and high humidity. For me, the full sunlight is easy enough. The faded condition of the carpet, drapes and furniture in my south-facing living room is proof enough that lack of sunshine was not a major factor in the many fernicides that have taken place in my home.
Humidity, though, is another matter. My house is so dry that a cluster of grapes left overnight will turn into raisins by morning. We don't need anti-perspirants in our home, or mildew removers either. Sweat dries in our armpits like rubbing alcohol, and mold is just another in a long list of plants I can't grow.
Despite the expert advice of my local florist, misting doesn't work. (I used a spray bottle every day for a month, and I still couldn't manufacture enough artificial sweat to justify the year's supply of Arid Extra Dry I once bought on sale.)
Misting didn't help my latest Boston fern either. The poor thing turned yellow enough to be mistaken for a jaundiced Indian head-dress. My 6-year-old son tried to wear it last Halloween, but it lost all its leaves before he could say "Trick or treat." Luckily for him, with all those bald leaf veins sticking up, everyone thought he was a porcupine.Using a pebble tray to add moisture to the air directly around another ill-fated Nephrolep wasn't very successful either. The family dog kept lapping at the water, and one day when she accidentally inhaled one of the small pebbles, I found out that doing the Heimlich on a full-grown Dalmatian is not something I'd like to repeat.
Still, that particular fern might have survived, if it hadn't been discovered by our cat one day when I was out. A catnip toy could not have provided more entertainment for that feline. It was the first time I ever knew the word mayhem could apply to plants.
After that we switched to plastic: My new Boston fern might not look especially lifelike, but then neither did any of the real ones I've had, after about three weeks in my house.
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