This is the newest addition to our menagerie of plants! It’s a Palm Alii (or Ficus Alii), and is relatively easier than its diva cousins in the Ficus Kingdom.

At first, I wanted to name this one “Palmela Anderson,” but my spouse, Paul, vetoed this stroke of genius. My next suggestion was Cassius, in homage to the birthname of the great boxer and civil rights advocate Mohammed Ali, but this guy seems more like a Featherweight. In the end, we settled on Leif.

Ficus alii tree in the foyer
Leif the Explorer sets down on the uncharted Territory of the Foyer.
Bill (the cat) inspects the new arrival. Also: Why, yes, that IS an eagle head wearing a fez, with a party hat on top of it. Don’t over-think it.

I should’ve known. from the first time I saw the (possibly contraband) ficus. It looked like it was reading a recorded statement in a Proof of Life video in a hostage situation. As a general rule. a ficus should not be able to resemble or even evoke the image of a deer in headlights, this one FOUND A WAY.

While wasn’t particularly traumatized by taking a six-foot-tall ficus on the subway, the poor plant clearly had some PTSD as a result. Once we got back to my place–a falling-in building that dated to just after the American Civil War (which was also the last time the heating and water system had been updated–literally), my new Ficus Friend was ensconced in a place of pride by an ancient glass door that would have opened up onto a tiny balconette, but the door hadn’t opened since the Harding Administration, at least.

This was my first-ever houseplant, and I was *determined* that it would thrive. Unlike everything else in my tiny apartment, THIS would look like something from one of those glossy lifestyle magazines full of perfectly clean apartments with white carpets and grey furniture that nobody ever spilled anything on. Yes, my ficus would merit the cover of Smug (which should be the title of most decorating sites or publications).

But it was not to be. By the end of the first week, pretty much all of the leaves had abruptly jumped ship. It was as if the tree was mafia boss the FBI was on to, and the leaves were the lackeys who decided to turn State’s Evidence.

Ficus with leaves falling out
DRAMATIC REENACTMENT: *NOT my ficus or photo, but this is roughly what happened.

Two weeks later, the leafless shell of the ficus was back on the streetcorner, by the trash. It was pretty much at that moment that I decided for once and for all, to declare myself a failure as a Plant Guardian. I genuinely felt bad for the plant, and concluded that it would be best for all involved if I never force any other plants to be my indoor hostages.

And, until April 2020, I continued my streak of never having another houseplant.

The Cautionary Tale of the Commiting Ficus-cide (it’s not what you think it is)

The moral of the story isn’t that I over-watered my ficus (although I did), or moved it too abruptly and too often (although I did). As it turns out, traditional ficuses are kind of a Varsity Level Houseplant, which I didn’t realize at the time. Even people with a ton of experience and clean houses with views of the Park have trouble keeping them alive. I shouldn’t have concluded from just one data point that I was “terminally bad with plants” to the point that I decided to eschew them forever.

I say this because SO MANY people are like me, and think they are inherently Kryptonite to plants, just because they had bad luck with what I call the Diva Plants–the kind that, if they were human, would totally throw their phone at the waiter for serving them water with ice.

However, it is why I was afraid to take on a ficus, even after almost an entire year of being a full-time Plant Parent, and even home-schooling my Monstera and literally giving my Calatheas “spa days.”

All About Ficus Alii

In late February, my friend Chris posted pictures of several plants he had rescued from his company’s office, which had gone virtual due to the pandemic and was closing its doors for good. They were going to just throw out the plants along with their containers, but fortunately, Chris decided to rescue and re-home them. (In the Before Times, the company even had a “plant guy” who came every two weeks or so and took care of all the plants, which would account for their excellent condition.)

I was lucky enough to see the post almost immediately, and signed up to adopt one of the trees. I noticed that it was a ficus, but I wasn’t sure what kind until later. The ficus alii (Ficus maclellandii) is also sometimes known as a Banana Leaf Fig, even though they don’t produce bananas, figs or any other fruit, which seems like false advertising.

As ficus trees go, the Ficus Alii is a relatively new variety, and it’s also relatively easy to take care of. They like light, but you don’t have to go crazy with it. Being by a window, even one that has a bush outside of it that blocks a bit of the light, seems perfectly fine.

Like all ficuses, you don’t want to over-water them. The rule of thumb, in this case…is literally to use your thumb (or any other appendage you prefer). Feel if the top of the soil is dry, about every two weeks, and give it a bit of water.

Leif (our ficus) came with a reservoir under the plastic container that is inside the large stone container (thanks, previous Office Plant Guy!). They don’t like to sit in a pool of their own water, so a container within a container helps keep the roots from getting annoyed (or rotting, or whatever technically happens).

They also like warmth and moisture. Winter in Seattle means indoor heating, which can kinda dry them out, so I mist them every day with a spray bottle. I thought of getting a plant humidifier, but that just seemed a bit excessive.

So far, we’ve only had Leif for about six weeks, but almost none of the leaves have fallen out, which I’m taking as a good sign. If anyone has had a Ficus Alii or similar and wants to share any tips and/or cautionary tales, please feel free to help out anxious new Ficus Parents everywhere in the comments below!