My Thumb Was Anything But Green
Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly known for my green thumb. In fact, my plant-parenting history is littered with more casualties than a battle royale. My previous attempts to nurture succulents (you know, those “impossible-to-kill” plants?) ended in a dry, crunchy graveyard on my windowsill. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a sprightly peace lily, I accepted with a mix of apprehension and forced enthusiasm.
My initial approach to plant care was, shall we say, enthusiastic. I watered my peace lily like I was trying to drown it, convinced that more H2O equaled more happiness. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. My poor plant started to droop, its leaves turning an alarming shade of yellow. Panicking, I did what any self-respecting millennial would do – I consulted Google.
Turns out, overwatering is a thing. Who knew?
After some frantic repotting and a stern talking-to from my more botanically-inclined friend (“You have to let the soil dry out between waterings!”), my peace lily slowly began to recover. I learned that sometimes, the best approach is a gentle and patient one. It’s a lesson that translates surprisingly well to other areas of life, like dealing with difficult colleagues or learning a new skill.
Lesson #2: Trust the Process: Growth Isn’t Always Visible
For weeks, it seemed like my peace lily was frozen in time. It wasn’t wilting, but it wasn’t exactly thriving either. I started to wonder if I was doing something wrong, if I was somehow failing as a plant parent. Then, one morning, as I was gloomily sipping my coffee, I noticed it: a tiny, tightly furled leaf emerging from the base of the plant.