The Unexpected Life Lesson I Learned From a Potted Plant
My Brown Thumb Legacy
Let’s be honest, I’m about as far from a “plant person” as you can get. My idea of nurturing involves ordering takeout and binge-watching Netflix. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a peace lily for my birthday, I accepted it with the same enthusiasm one might have for adopting a high-maintenance pet.
“It’s practically impossible to kill!” my friend assured me. Famous last words.
My peace lily, which I optimistically named Ferdinand, started off strong. He graced my windowsill with his elegant green leaves and even sprouted a new one, filling me with a misplaced sense of botanical prowess. But then, the inevitable happened. Ferdinand started to droop.
At first, it was a subtle lean, a gentle dip of the leaves. “He’s just being dramatic,” I told myself. But soon, the droop became a full-fledged swan dive. Ferdinand was practically begging for mercy, his once-proud leaves now resembling limp lettuce. Panic set in.
I did what any self-respecting millennial would do: I Googled it. “Peace lily drooping,” I typed frantically, scrolling through an endless stream of articles with titles like “5 Signs You’re Overwatering Your Plants” and “Underwatering: The Silent Killer.”
Armed with my newfound knowledge, I swung between extremes, drowning Ferdinand one day and forgetting about him entirely the next. Unsurprisingly, my attempts at plant resuscitation only seemed to worsen the situation.