The Day My Fiddle Leaf Fig Sided With My Ex
We’ve all been there. You’re having a tough day, feeling a little down on yourself, and then you catch a glimpse of your houseplant. It’s drooping, leaves brown and crispy, as if to say, “Really? This is the best you can do?” It was during one such moment, nursing a broken heart and a wilting peace lily, that I started to suspect my houseplants were onto me. They knew I was a hot mess, and frankly, they weren’t impressed.
But it was my fiddle leaf fig, Fiona, who really drove the point home. My ex had just left, taking his sourdough starter and leaving behind a trail of heartbreak, and Fiona, who had always thrived under my care, suddenly took a turn for the worse. Her leaves, once proud and vibrant, began to droop like a teenager forced to endure a family vacation. Coincidence? I think not. It was as if she was saying, “I told you he wasn’t good for you.”
Fiona isn’t the only one who seems to communicate through subtle (and not-so-subtle) cues. My spider plant, for example, has mastered the art of the silent treatment. I swear, I could water her, fertilize her, even sing her a lullaby, and she’d still refuse to sprout a single baby spider plant. It’s like she’s punishing me for that one time I forgot to water her for three weeks straight (in my defense, I was on vacation!).
Then there’s my cactus, Carl. Now, I know what you’re thinking: cacti are supposed to be low-maintenance. And for the most part, Carl lives up to that reputation. But every now and then, just when I think I’ve got this whole plant parenting thing down, he throws me a curveball. One day, I woke up to find he had sprouted a new growth—right in my direction. Was it a peace offering? A sign of approval? Or was he just subtly reminding me that he could see everything I was doing?