My Thumb Went From Black to…Slightly Less Black
We’ve all been there. You’re strolling through the grocery store, minding your own business, when suddenly, BAM! Aisle six ambushes you with a symphony of vibrant blooms and verdant foliage. Before you know it, you’re walking out, triumphant, a proud plant parent ready to nurture life into existence…or at least try to keep something alive for longer than a month.
That was me, wide-eyed and optimistic, with my new little ZZ plant, which the internet assured me was basically impossible to kill. Let’s just say, I’m a firm believer that plants can sense fear. And overwatering. My previous attempts at plant parenthood were less than successful, leaving a trail of crispy leaves and existential gardening dread in their wake.
Fast forward a few months (and several near-drowning experiences), my little ZZ, which I affectionately named Steve, was looking a little worse for wear. A few leaves had yellowed, others drooped with the dramatic flair of a Shakespearean actor. I was ready to admit defeat, convinced that Steve was destined to join the great compost heap in the sky.
But then, something remarkable happened. I (finally) listened to the advice of more experienced plant parents and simply…left Steve alone. I resisted the urge to water him every other day, repotted him with some well-draining soil, and basically apologized for my previous horticultural sins.
And guess what? Steve rallied. New growth emerged, strong and vibrant. He went from a sad, wilting mess to a thriving testament to the power of resilience. Who knew that sometimes the best thing you can do is simply back off and let nature do its thing?
Lesson #2: Patience, Young Padawan: Growth Happens on Its Own Time
Now, I’m not gonna lie, I’m a bit of an impatient person. I like instant gratification, quick results, and the ability to fast-forward through the boring parts of life (seriously, why is there so much waiting involved?). So, naturally, when Steve wasn’t sprouting new leaves every other day, I started to worry.
Was he getting enough light? Was he secretly harboring a grudge against me for that one time I accidentally overfertilized him? (Okay, maybe twice.) I obsessively Googled “ZZ plant growth rate” and compared Steve’s progress (or lack thereof) to every other ZZ plant on Instagram.
But Steve, in his infinite plant wisdom, taught me that growth takes time. It’s not always linear, it’s not always Instagram-worthy, and sometimes, it happens so gradually you barely even notice it. Until one day, you turn around, and you realize just how much change has occurred.