From Black Thumb to Budding Botanist (Kind Of)
Let’s be honest, I’m about as far from a “plant person” as you can get. My idea of gardening used to be choosing which succulent at the store looked the least likely to die under my care (spoiler alert: they all did). But then came Ferdinand.
Ferdinand, a majestic (or at least, I thought so) ZZ plant, was gifted to me by a well-meaning friend who clearly overestimated my nurturing abilities. He was a vibrant green, stood tall and proud in his pot, and I was determined not to be the one to break him. Little did I know, Ferdinand was about to break me… in the best way possible.
This was my first lesson in patience. I couldn’t just shower Ferdinand with attention (and water) whenever I felt like it. I had to learn his rhythm, pay attention to his subtle cues, and resist the urge to drown him with affection (or, you know, tap water).
Lesson #2: Growth Isn’t Always Obvious (But It’s Always Happening)
Weeks turned into months, and Ferdinand seemed… well, pretty much the same. Sure, he hadn’t shriveled up and died, which I considered a major victory, but he hadn’t exactly transformed into a leafy jungle either. I started to doubt my abilities. Was I really doing this right? Was Ferdinand destined to remain forever stagnant?
And then, one day, while I was watering him (on schedule, might I add!), I noticed it: a tiny, tightly furled new shoot emerging from the base. It was small, almost insignificant, but it was there. Proof that growth was happening, even if I couldn’t see it every day. It was a powerful reminder that sometimes the most profound transformations occur beneath the surface, slowly and steadily, before they blossom into something beautiful.