Why I Started Talking to Plants (and What Happened Next)





The Day My Thumb Turned Green (Sort Of)

Let’s be honest, I’ve never been a “plant person.” Sure, I appreciate a good bouquet on my birthday, but keeping anything green alive for longer than a week felt like a Herculean task best left to others. That is, until the Great Basil Incident of 2023.

It all started innocently enough. I bought a basil plant from the grocery store, determined to elevate my pasta nights from jarred sauce to homemade pesto. But within days, my verdant dream was wilting faster than my enthusiasm. Desperate, I did what any sane, rational person on the verge of culinary defeat would do: I started talking to it.

Plants Respond to Human Voices?

At first, it was just a few encouraging words whispered over the kitchen sink. “You got this, little buddy,” I’d murmur while watering, feeling slightly ridiculous. But then something strange happened. The basil perked up. It sprouted new leaves, its aroma filling the kitchen. Was it the pep talks? The extra attention? Pure dumb luck? I didn’t know, but I was hooked.

Emboldened by my success, I expanded my conversational repertoire to the rest of my apartment’s plant life. The weeping willow in the corner got serenaded with my shower singing (sorry, neighbors!). The ferns received daily weather reports. My peace lily, a notoriously dramatic diva, was treated to detailed recaps of my work dramas.

To my surprise, they seemed to thrive on the attention. My apartment transformed into a miniature jungle, bursting with vibrant greenery. I even started naming them (don’t judge!).

The Unexpected Side Effects of Talking to Plants

My newfound green thumb, however, came with an unexpected side effect. I started to feel… understood by my plants. Like they were listening, responding to my moods. Was I projecting? Probably. Did I start having full-blown conversations with a particularly chatty spider plant named Steve? Maybe.

The line between plant parent and crazy plant lady was blurring faster than the edges of my vision after a long day of staring at a computer screen. That’s when I realized I might need to step back, take a break from my leafy companions, and maybe interact with some actual humans for a while.