From Cactus Killer to Crazy Plant Lady: My Plant Parent Origin Story
Let’s be honest, I wasn’t always this… nurturing. My thumbs were more brown than green, my apartment more desert than rainforest. In fact, I’m pretty sure I could kill a cactus just by looking at it sideways. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a peace lily for my birthday, I accepted it with the same enthusiasm one reserves for a tax audit.
The Joys of Plant Parenthood: More Plentiful Than You’d Expect
Fast forward to today, and my apartment looks like a scene from Jumanji, but in a good way. I’ve gone from zero to fifty shades of green, and I’m not ashamed to admit, I’m obsessed. Here’s why:
- Plants are the best listeners. Feeling stressed? Tell it to the succulents. They won’t judge, they won’t interrupt, and they definitely won’t tell your therapist. Plus, they’re way cheaper than therapy, unless you count that impulse purchase of the rare variegated monstera (no regrets, Ferdinand!).
- They’re the gift that keeps on giving. Forget diamonds, I’ll take a cutting of your pothos any day. There’s something deeply satisfying about propagating a new plant baby from an existing one. It’s like a little piece of your plant friend gets to live on, spreading joy (and hopefully not spider mites) in a whole new location.
- It’s a crash course in mindfulness. Caring for plants has taught me patience, observation, and the importance of paying attention to the little things. Plus, there’s something incredibly therapeutic about getting your hands dirty (literally) and reconnecting with nature, even if it’s just in your living room.
The Plant Parent Struggle is Real (But Oh So Worth It)
Sure, being a plant parent isn’t always sunshine and roses (though I do have a rose bush named Bernadette, and she’s a real diva). There are pests to battle, humidity levels to monitor, and the occasional heartbreaking farewell when a plant just doesn’t make it.