From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent
Let’s be honest, I wasn’t always a natural at this whole plant thing. In fact, my thumbs were practically charcoal black. I’m talking “killed-a-cactus” level bad. But then something changed. Maybe it was the pandemic, maybe it was an early mid-life crisis, whatever it was, I decided to try my hand (again) at becoming one with nature. And you know what? It’s been an unexpectedly joyful ride!
One of the best things about plants? They’re fantastic listeners. I can spill my guts about a stressful day at work, and my Monstera Deliciosa just sits there, soaking it all in with its giant, holey leaves. No judgment, no unsolicited advice, just pure, leafy empathy. Plus, they haven’t once complained about my singing in the shower. Try getting that kind of support from a goldfish!
And the best part? They actually thrive on my rambling! Okay, maybe not on the rambling itself, but on the carbon dioxide I exhale while I’m busy oversharing. It’s a win-win situation, really.
Finding Joy in Plant Parenting: Celebrating Small Victories
Listen, adulting is hard. Some days, just getting out of bed feels like an accomplishment. But with plants, even the smallest milestones feel like major victories. That first new leaf? I’m talking instant mood booster! A successful repotting session? Move over, Beyonce, there’s a new Queen Bee in town!
And don’t even get me started on the thrill of propagating. Seriously, growing a whole new plant baby from a single cutting feels like straight-up sorcery. Take that, student loan debt and looming sense of existential dread!