"I like to propagate," says Jim Bonner. Mind you, this is a plant term, too. One look at his office confirms that the assistant director of systems management at Student Financial Aid is talking about plants, not humans.

They’re everywhere in Lighty 380P. Fragile-looking tillandsia, or air plants, which Bonner mists a couple of times a week with deionized water, spill out of pieces of bark, rock and a conch shell on his desk, from ceiling baskets, even from a couple of paper clips riding on a thin wire that crosses his office from one wall to the opposite. They’re his favorite, if he has one, among his treasure trove of succulents.

A bonsai ficus is being trained to grow over a rock. Bonner takes a little bit more dirt out of the pot periodically, exposing roots at dry low tide.

Some type of Tahitian tree comes to life under Bonner’s fingers, the gift of seeds from a salesman, along with another plant that started as a stick from Hawaii.

An untouchable cactus blooms soft, pale, touch-me flowers with tiny stars in the center. Even the Spanish moss of Louisiana bayous can grow in Bonner’s Secret Garden.

Except it’s not much of a secret. And it’s not a locked-up garden. Walk around the offices of Student Financial Aid; Bonner’s green thumb runs amuck. Like the prolific offshoots from a piggyback plant—Bonner has one of these as well—his floral charges migrate to office mates without the slightest provocation. He rotates plants in the reception area whenever a change is needed; this week, it’s an African violet at the main desk. The rock fountain Bonner built himself last summer burbles against the back wall. About 15 plants grace the lounge area outside the department.

More offshoots jump several floors of the Lighty Student Services Building to the ground level. People jolted by the coffee they purchase at Campus Carts need only go behind the stairs to be soothed by more of Bonner’s plants, set around the windows and on an antique dresser with a mirror. The only thing missing is a rocking chair to sit in.

"I spend time every day taking care of the plants, sometimes on weekends," he says. "It’s very satisfying, soothing, peaceful. I think it makes a difference."

Taking care of the 75 plants that reside in his office takes a bit of water—10 to 15 gallons a week. Bonner has three fans and a large humidifier going because the plants like good air circulation. He’s also put up shelves in his office’s south-facing window so as many plants as possible can bask in the best light available.

Bonner’s ability with plants is inherited from a farming family and the fertile geography they came from, the Delmarva Peninsula, a backwater that fed the Eastern Seaboard. Bonner spent all his childhood summers on Rehoboth Beach with his grandparents. His grandmother, Anna Elizabeth, was the planting marvel.

"She really had the green thumb," he remembers. "She could put anything in the ground, and it would grow."

Branching a bit from the family tradition of farming, Bonner enrolled at WSU in 1976 to become a soil conservationist, but health problems curtailed his studies. He worked as a Physical Plant custodian for 12 years and attended classes part time, graduating cum laude with a bachelor’s degree in business administration in 1988. He joined Information Technology as a systems analyst programmer that same year, supporting Student Financial Aid until the department brought him on board in 1991.

Regardless of his official WSU job title, Bonner’s nameplate outside his office says it all: Plant Dr. and Mystic. The plants just keep coming to Bonner. So do the humans. They come with questions about their sick flora. They come with sick flora to revive. They come bearing cuttings that Bonner puts inside a propagation tank with a heating blanket underneath to encourage growth, an incubator for newborn plants. He’s proud of the date seeds that sprouted there.

"I still manage to kill some," he admits. Christmas cacti don’t seem to like his office.

But Bonner has 100 percent success with one very important aspect of growing things: Making people feel good. Several of his homemade terrariums dot neighboring offices. A rock fountain for colleague Jennifer Steffen trickles three doors down, a gift for her birthday. Another colleague, Linda Chang, drops in just to stand in the doorway, breathe in the calm.

"People come to visit me so they can see my plants," he says.