From Black Thumb to…Slightly Less Black Thumb?

Let’s be honest, folks. I am no botanist. My thumbs are practically coated in charcoal from years of unintentionally assassinating innocent houseplants. A cactus once withered under my care. A CACTUS. You know, those spiky things that thrive in the desert with minimal water? Yeah, I managed to kill one.

So, you can imagine my trepidation when the plant craze hit, and everyone I knew suddenly transformed into responsible plant parents with thriving indoor jungles. But something about those lush green photos on Instagram, the promise of cleaner air, and the challenge of keeping something other than myself alive (barely) was intriguing. So, I decided to dip my toe, or rather, my slightly blackened thumb, back into the world of plant parenthood.

The Great Succulent Experiment: A Cautionary Tale

My first victims, I mean, plant children, were a couple of adorable succulents. They seemed like a safe bet, right? Low maintenance, drought-tolerant, and practically impossible to kill. Famous last words, am I right?

Armed with a watering can and a healthy dose of skepticism, I embarked on my succulent parenting journey. I followed all the rules: well-draining soil, infrequent watering, plenty of sunshine. I even named them Stan and Stella, because every plant parent needs to have a good origin story for the inevitable plant funeral.