My Journey From Plant Killer to Slightly Less Brown Thumb
Let’s be honest, my history with plants is a bit…spotty. Okay, fine, it’s more like a graveyard of good intentions and drooping leaves. I’m the person who could kill a cactus in a desert. But, determined to bring some life (literally) into my apartment, I decided to adopt a little fern. I named him Ferdinand, naturally, because who doesn’t name their plants? Little did I know, Ferdinand would teach me more than how to keep something green for longer than a week. He’d teach me about life itself.
At first, Ferdinand thrived. His fronds were luscious and full, reaching towards the light streaming in from my window. I, in a fit of pride, even started calling myself a “plant parent.” Then, slowly, the inevitable happened. He started to wilt. I panicked, of course. Had I overwatered? Underwatered? Was it something I said? Turns out, the culprit was me… literally. I’d shifted Ferdinand’s pot slightly when I was rearranging furniture, unknowingly placing him in my own shadow.
The lesson? Sometimes we get in our own way, blocking the very things we need to grow. Once I moved Ferdinand back into the sunshine, he perked right up. And me? Well, I started paying a bit more attention to where I was casting my own metaphorical shadows.
Lesson #2: Tapping into Your Resilience – We All Have Deep Roots
Life, like my plant-watering schedule, isn’t always consistent. There were times when I was swamped with work, deadlines looming like a storm cloud over poor, innocent Ferdinand. I’d forget to water him for days, maybe even a week (don’t judge!). Each time, I’d return home, guilt-ridden, expecting to find a pile of withered leaves.
But, to my surprise, Ferdinand hung on. Sure, he might have looked a little droopy, a tad dramatic even, but his roots kept him grounded. He reminded me that even when we feel dried out by life’s demands, we have reserves of strength we might not even realize. We just need to tap into those roots and let ourselves be nourished.