Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly what you’d call “good” with plants. More like a serial plant killer with good intentions. I’d walk past those lush green havens at the garden center, filled with the naive hope that this time would be different. Spoiler alert: it never was. Until Bartholomew.
The Day Bartholomew the ZZ Plant Arrived
Bartholomew (Bart to his friends, which is mostly just me) wasn’t your average houseplant. He was a gift from my well-meaning, plant-loving aunt, who clearly had more faith in my nurturing abilities than I did. Bart was a majestic ZZ plant, known for their resilience and low-maintenance ways. “Perfect for beginners!” my aunt had chirped, completely oblivious to the graveyard of succulents and ferns haunting my past.
Lesson #1: Plant Care Teaches You That Less is More
Now, if there’s one thing I’m guilty of, it’s overthinking. It’s a special talent, really. Naturally, I approached Bart’s care with the subtlety of a runaway fire hydrant. I watered him religiously, gave him enough plant food to feed a small jungle, and even invested in a special grow light (don’t judge).
Bart, bless his heart, started to wilt. His once perky leaves drooped like a sad accordion. Panicked, I did what any rational person on the verge of plant-induced hysteria would do: I consulted Google. Turns out, ZZ plants thrive on neglect. They like their soil dry, their sunlight indirect, and their plant parents decidedly more chilled out.
And so began my crash course in the art of “benign neglect.” I cut back on the watering, ditched the fertilizer frenzy, and learned to trust that Bart knew what he needed. And you know what? He flourished. Turns out, sometimes the best thing you can do is simply step back and let things be.
Lesson #2: Patience is Key, for Plants and Life
As Bart thrived under my newfound (and slightly forced) zen approach to plant parenting, I realized something else. He wasn’t a fast grower. Oh no, Bartholomew took his sweet, sweet time. Weeks would pass with seemingly no change. And then, one day, I’d notice it: a tiny new shoot, unfurling with the confidence of a seasoned showman.