Most, if not all, gardeners speak to their plants. Scientists say the only benefit they receive from our spoken words is carbon dioxide. Of course, we feel differently, our nurturing self believes our plants hear us, respond to us, maybe even think (like they have a brain).

Recently I surveyed some friends with a question: do you talk to your plants? Given that all of my friends are gardeners, it was a resounding yes. Short sentences, mostly timed with boisterous growth or flowering, or the sad consoling when we've forgotten to water and the plant is wilted, these were the main reason for dialog. I also asked if it differed by the plant, as in; do you speak differently to your outdoor hydrangea versus your indoor fancy orchid? No was the answer although there was a lot of gendering, male or female designations, some believing that all of their plants are male (or the alternative).

When it comes to scientific facts about how a plant communicates with its surroundings, I believe that there may be more unknown than known. But I can cite some studies that highlight recent findings. It's been proven that a caterpillar eating a leaf will trigger surrounding plants to increase certain chemicals in their leaves so they are less palatable. Is it hearing, vibrations, or smell?

In 2013 a project showed that plants have memory, at least the sensitive plant or Mimosa pudica. This plant was the perfect subject for the test; when touched the leaves quickly fold up. They are small leaves, arranged on a stem and it's an intriguing thing to watch them turn upward from stem tip to trunk in a matter of milliseconds. The experiment took over 50 plants, dropped every five seconds, all rigged with mechanical devices for the drop to negate differences from potential human imperfections. In some cases, Mimosa pudica stopped closing after the fifth or sixth drop. Eventually, they all stopped reacting. A week later the same experiment was repeated and the plants ignored the stimuli. So it also went a month later. The sensitive plant remembered!

The Venus flytrap requires a certain, very precise set of movements before it snaps its jaws shut. Two small filaments must be touched together in less than twenty seconds for it to close on its prey. This dual action also keeps it from closing when it's hit by raindrops, or a blowing leaf, or random environmental cues. Some may consider this thinking. I'm sure it's an adaptation developed over millions of years. If their jaws were constantly opening and closing, there would have to be a weakening. With evolutionary adaptation, those that opened less frequently would be stronger, better suited to thrive and displace the Venus flytrap, version 101.

Maybe the most exciting research shows that tree roots are connected by a network of mycorrhizal fungi. Both are rewarded in the relationship, trees give the fungi sugar, the tree is then rewarded with minerals and nutrients transferred by the fungus. An underground communication system is now set up, like a network of phone lines, even linking different species. When a tree is in trouble, it will alert others in its network. There is even proof that an ailing tree may release its reserves to other trees as it dies, even helping another species that may survive better in a changing environment. This sure seems like thinking.

So if you're talking to your plants, doling sweet nothings in their ears (ears!), don't stop. One day it may be proven that they are listening after all.