The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and Why I Now Speak to My Fiddle-Leaf Fig)

From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

Let’s be honest, I wasn’t always a natural nurturer. In fact, my thumbs were practically charcoal black. I’d managed to kill a cactus, for crying out loud! So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a fiddle-leaf fig for my birthday, I accepted it with a grimace disguised as a grateful smile.

“Fiona” she declared, thrusting the leafy lady into my arms. “She’ll thrive with you, I just know it!”

Fiona and I eyed each other with suspicion. She, a vision of emerald elegance, and me, a notorious plant assassin. Little did I know, Fiona would soon become my leafy therapist, my silent confidante, and the catalyst for my unexpected journey into the wonderful world of plant parenthood.

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