The Long, Quiet Journey of the Chinese Money Plant
If you look around today, you’ll spot it everywhere—perched on sunny windowsills, styled on bookshelves, starring in plant swaps and social feeds alike. With its round, coin-shaped leaves and easygoing nature, Pilea peperomioides feels like it’s always been part of the houseplant canon.
But for decades, it wasn’t.
As with many plant stories passed lovingly from person to person, some of the events recounted here come from family memory and lived experience. These details may differ from other documented histories of this plant, but they reflect how plants—long before they are famous—often move modestly through the world: shared, cared for, and remembered.
Long before it had a common name and before it became known as the Chinese Money Plant, Pilea peperomioides was a family heirloom. With little certainty about what it was, Pilea peperomioides was passed from hand to hand, country to country, with no fanfare.
This is the story of how one family’s cherished cutting found its way to Logee’s—and from there, onto countless windowsills around the world.
A Plant with a Passport
In the late 1800’s, a woman named Mabel Benson left Norway and traveled to the United States. According to family lore passed down through generations, she carried a small plant with her—transported simply and practically in a jar. That plant was lovingly grown and shared within the family for decades, moving as people moved, surviving changing climates, homes, and eras.
By the mid-20th century, the plant was still being quietly passed along within the Benson family. One branch of that lineage ended up with Karis, who received a cutting from her brother-in-law. The story had been retold many times by then: this was a plant that had crossed oceans, survived long journeys, and endured because people cared enough to keep it going.
At the time, no one knew its proper name. It was sometimes mistaken for a Peperomia, and some in the family called it the Lollipop Plant because of its disk-shaped leaves attached to its thin, tubular stems. What mattered more than taxonomy was that it grew well, was shared easily, and seemed determined to survive.
A Trip to Logee’s
In the late 1970s, while living in Massachusetts, Karis made regular trips to Logee’s—already a beloved destination for plant lovers. Curious about her mysterious heirloom, she gave a cutting to Joy Logee Martin, second-generation owner of Logee’s, hoping for help with identification.
Joy didn’t immediately have an answer—but she didn’t stop there.
Joy sent a sample of it to Longwood Gardens, and eventually, the mystery plant was identified as Pilea peperomioides. By the time the ID was confirmed, Karis and her plant had moved to Virginia—taking the plant with her, where it still grows today. In more than 50 years, it has only bloomed once, a rare and special reward.
But something important had already happened.
The plant had entered the Logee’s collection.
From Curiosity to Cult Favorite
Byron Martin, third generation owner of Logee’s, remembered that the plant came into the collection—but did not remember its backstory.
Over the years, Logee’s did what it has always done best: propagated, observed, and shared. Slowly, steadily, Pilea peperomioides began circulating through the horticultural world. For a long time, it remained a curiosity—passed among collectors and plant people who appreciated its form and resilience.
Then, everything changed.
Somewhere along the way, Pilea peperomioides picked up a common name: Chinese Money Plant. That name, paired with its graphic leaves and unfussy nature, changed its trajectory. As houseplants surged in popularity over the last decade, the Chinese Money Plant went from insider favorite to global star.
What had once been rare—and once confined to a single family—suddenly seemed to be everywhere.
Realizing the Impact
For Karis, seeing the plant offered so widely sparked a question: Could Logee’s have played a role in this?
For many years, the only people she knew who had the plant were members of her brother-in-law’s family—some of whom still grow and share descendants of the original plant today, including relatives in Spain. To see it suddenly appear in garden centers and homes around the world felt surreal.
Byron’s response brought clarity—and confirmation. Yes, Logee’s had helped disseminate it. Yes, this once-mysterious plant had become part of the broader horticultural landscape.
A family heirloom had become a shared joy.
Why This Plant Endures
Part of what makes this story so compelling is the plant itself. Pilea peperomioides is remarkably forgiving. It tolerates dry indoor air, adapts to different light levels, propagates readily, and seems perfectly suited to life alongside people.
As Byron noted, its occasional flowering is tied to cooler temperatures and higher light—another reminder that while it’s easy to live with, it still has secrets.
It’s a plant that travels well. A plant that waits patiently. A plant that doesn’t demand attention—but rewards it.
A Living Thread
Today, Karis still has her original plant. Its leaves are living proof of a journey that spans continents and centuries—Norway to North Dakota, Massachusetts to Virginia, Logee’s greenhouses to homes across the globe.
Every Chinese Money Plant on a windowsill carries echoes of stories like this one: of people who shared cuttings, of curiosity that led someone to ask a question, of growers who recognized something special and helped it along its way.
Plants don’t just grow. They travel with us.
And sometimes, if we’re lucky, they carry our stories forward too.
