Samantha Raper

the Magical Plant Nanny

I grew up with true Southern Grandmothers and Southern Grandmothers are plant whisperers. But did I listen? Not really. Did I help do the work? Oh yes. I was, in my memory, the manual labor. The waterer, picker, pruner, the breaker of beans. So many beans. But did I ask Granny why the spider plants hung one under another, or Mammaw why the African violet was only ever placed ever so carefully into a bowl of water?  Or why we collected rainwater? Gross. Nope, I just did it and I did it begrudgingly. I broke bathtubs of green beans, y’all. Bathtubs. 

It wasn't until the onset of Covid and my decision to embark on a journey of sobriety two years ago that my love for plants truly took root. The seeds were there, SG’s made sure of it. I always had a plant or two that survived in spite of me. A Spider plant my Granny gave me when my oldest son was born and a Snake plant that I took with me when a restaurant I worked at unexpectedly closed over 20 years ago. But most plants came to my house to die. As a mother of 3, it was hard to remember I even had plants much less water them. We all find our path.

I’m a very active member of our broad Community Theatre scene, both on and off stage. I was performing in a show, wearing a wig that made me my Mammaw’s twin. My director, and dear friend, gifted me an African violet not knowing my connection with it and her.  At that time she was in the final stages of dementia and this coincidence felt important. This plant was going to live, I was determined. Suddenly, I remembered putting her violets in bowls of water and carefully drying the leaves that I inevitably got wet as she fussed and fretted. So I looked up why. Why can’t the leaves get wet?  And thus began my slow and rocky journey as a plant whisperer. I kept that violet alive for almost a year and a half. It died not long after she did. And then came quarantine.

I served an extensive and exhausting tour of duty in the restaurant industry as a bartender, server, and manager for twenty plus years. Covid changed everything and I was tired of leaving my new vegetable garden and all my clearance plant rescues to go serve a lunch shift. I wanted my hands in dirt, not filling up sweet teas. So in January of 2023,  I traded in my apron for a watering can and founded Magical Plant Nanny. 

Never have I encountered such supportive, encouraging, and peaceful people as those in the plant community. As a whole we, the plant people, are nurturers; givers and supporters who can look at a half dead plant and see potential and know it only needs a little more love. A little more light. I have a heart of service, it is my love language. Caring for plants feels very much the same as caring for people. That may look like allowing you to finally relax on vacation without worrying your favorite Aunt’s Thanksgiving Cactus is suffering, while you're surfing. Or maintaining the peace with your neighbor who really did mean to water those tomato plants you grew from your Granny’s heirloom tomato seeds. Or you landed that awesome job and really really need to repot that Peace Lily this year. 

So take the vacation, you’ve earned it, I’ve got you and your heirloom tomatoes.