Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: beginner plant tips

  • My Apartment Jungle: Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Should Join the Club!)

    My Apartment Jungle: Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Should Join the Club!)



    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Let’s be honest, folks. I used to be a certified plant killer. My apartment housed a graveyard of neglected succulents and tragically thirsty ferns. I swore off plant parenthood, convinced I lacked the magical touch. But then, something changed. Maybe it was the pandemic-induced desire for life (any life!) in my tiny apartment, or maybe it was the allure of those perfectly curated Instagram jungles. Whatever it was, I decided to give plants another shot.

    Fast forward to today, and my apartment is practically bursting at the seams with greenery. I’ve got towering monsteras vying for sunlight, sassy snake plants judging my every move, and even a peace lily that blooms more often than my social life!

    plant parenthood, my friends, comes with a whole host of unexpected joys.

    Benefits of Houseplants: 3 Reasons You Should Become a Plant Parent

    1. Plants Are the Chillest Roommates (Except When They’re Dramatic)

    Unlike my former human roommates (looking at you, Brenda, who never did the dishes!), plants are incredibly low-maintenance. They don’t hog the bathroom, steal your food, or complain about your questionable taste in reality TV. They’re perfectly content to bask in the sunlight, sip on some water, and occasionally throw you a new leaf or flower as a thank you.

    Of course, like all roommates, plants have their moments. There will be times when your prized fiddle leaf fig decides to throw a dramatic tantrum, shedding leaves like it’s auditioning for a soap opera. But even these moments are strangely endearing. After all, who needs human drama when you can witness a plant passive-aggressively wilting?

    2. Who Needs Therapy When You Can Talk to Your Plants?

    Speaking of drama, let’s talk about the therapeutic benefits of plant parenthood. Did you know that talking to your plants can actually help them grow? Okay, maybe that’s debatable. But there’s something incredibly calming about tending to your green babies, gently wiping down their leaves, and whispering words of encouragement (or frustration, depending on their behavior).

    Plus, watching a plant thrive under your care is a huge confidence booster. Every new leaf unfurling feels like a personal victory. It’s like, “Hey, I did that! I kept something alive that wasn’t powered by batteries or fueled by takeout!”

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant




    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant


    My Thumb Is Not So Green

    Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly known for my nurturing nature. I’m more of a “forget to water myself” kind of person, let alone another living thing. So, when my well-intentioned friend gifted me a houseplant—a supposedly “easy to care for” peace lily—I accepted with a mix of skepticism and terror. I mean, I’d successfully killed a cactus once. A CACTUS!

    But this little plant, with its deep green leaves and surprisingly resilient disposition, ended up teaching me more than I could have ever imagined. Who knew such profound wisdom could sprout from a pot of soil?

    Plant Parents)

    My first lesson came in the form of a droopy, sad-looking plant. I’d overwatered it. In my enthusiasm to not be a plant murderer, I’d drowned the poor thing. Thankfully, after some frantic Googling and a whole lot of apologizing to the peace lily, I managed to revive it. It was a humbling experience, to say the least.

    Turns out, plants, like people, thrive on consistency, not sporadic bursts of attention. Who knew? (Okay, maybe everyone else, but I was clearly late to the plant-whispering party). Learning to be patient, to observe and respond to its subtle cues—a slightly wilted leaf, a drooping stem—was an exercise in mindfulness I didn’t know I needed.

    Growth Takes Time (and the Occasional Repotting)

    As the weeks turned into months, my little peace lily, much to my surprise, actually started to thrive. It sprouted new leaves, its roots grew strong, and it even graced me with a beautiful white bloom. I was ecstatic! But then, just as I was starting to think I’d graduated from Plant Killer to Plant Whisperer, it started to wilt again.

    Turns out, even with the best care, sometimes you need to shake things up a bit. My plant had simply outgrown its pot. It was time for a change, a chance to spread its roots and reach new heights.

    This, I realized, applied to my own life too. There were times when I needed to step outside my comfort zone, to embrace new challenges and opportunities for growth, even if it meant feeling a little uncomfortable at first. Just like my peace lily, I needed space to blossom.

  • Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Get Your Green Thumb On)

    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Get Your Green Thumb On)




    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Get Your Green Thumb On)


    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Okay, confession time: I used to be a notorious plant killer. Seriously, I could wither a succulent in a sauna. Give me a cactus, and I’d somehow manage to drown it. It was a sad state of affairs. So, imagine my surprise when, during a particularly uneventful trip to the grocery store, I found myself inexplicably drawn to a droopy little peace lily.

    “Don’t do it,” my inner voice cautioned, “Remember Barry the begonia? And what about Steve the spider plant? Their demise still haunts my dreams!”

    But something about the lily’s sad little leaves called to me. Maybe it was the promise of some much-needed greenery in my life, or maybe it was the deeply discounted price tag. Whatever the reason, I caved.

    And that, my friends, is how my journey into the unexpected (and surprisingly delightful) world of plant parenthood began.

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant






    My Thumb Is Not So Brown After All?

    I’ve never been particularly “good” with plants. In fact, I’m pretty sure I single-handedly kept several plant nurseries afloat with my repeat business. Let’s just say, my apartment resembled a plant graveyard, littered with the ghosts of ferns past. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a sprightly little ZZ plant, I accepted it with a mix of cautious optimism and impending doom. I named him Stanley, mostly because it felt appropriate for a plant I assumed wouldn’t live long enough to earn a real name. Little did I know, Stanley was about to teach me a whole lot more than just how to keep something green alive.

    Lesson #1: Patience, Young Padawan

    Now, I’m a bit of an instant gratification kind of gal. I like my coffee brewed quickly, my internet faster, and my results, well, immediate. Stanley, however, operates on Stanley-time. He takes his sweet time to sprout new growth, unfurling each new leaf with the deliberate grace of a sloth in a yoga class. At first, I’d hover over him like a worried parent, convinced his lack of lightning-fast progress meant I was doing something wrong. But as weeks turned into months, and Stanley continued to thrive (at his own pace, of course), I realized something profound: not everything in life needs to happen at warp speed. Sometimes, the most rewarding things take time, patience, and a whole lot of trust in the process.

    Stanley wasn’t immune to the occasional mishap. I’m talking accidental overwatering, a near-death experience thanks to a curious cat, and even a brief but terrifying run-in with a rogue ping pong ball. But here’s the thing: through it all, Stanley persevered. He bounced back from every setback stronger and more determined to thrive. He reminded me that resilience isn’t about avoiding challenges; it’s about facing them head-on, learning from them, and emerging on the other side, a little battered maybe, but ultimately better for the experience.

    Lesson #3: The Power of Simplicity

    I’m a bit of an over-giver, in all aspects of life. Need someone to organize your sock drawer? I’m your girl. Craving a five-course meal at 3 am? I’ve got you covered. So naturally, when it came to Stanley, I showered him with attention. I watered him religiously, fertilized him like there was no tomorrow, and even serenaded him with my questionable rendition of “Here Comes the Sun” (don’t judge). But then I learned something surprising: Stanley thrived on neglect. Well, not exactly neglect, but he definitely preferred a more hands-off approach. He taught me the power of simplicity, the beauty of letting go, and the importance of not smothering those we love, even with good intentions (sorry, Stanley!).

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant




    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant


    My Green Thumb? More Like a Green Pinky Finger

    Let’s be honest, my thumbs have never been particularly green. In fact, I’m pretty sure they’re closer to a pale pink, especially when it comes to keeping plants alive. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a sprightly little fern for my birthday, I accepted it with a mix of gratitude and trepidation.

    Little did I know, this fern would become more than just a decorative element in my living room. It would become my unlikely life coach, silently dispensing wisdom through its leafy existence. Who knew?

    Lesson #1: Patience is a Virtue (and Crucial for Plant Parents)

    My first lesson came in the form of drooping fronds. Convinced I was overwatering (a classic novice mistake), I panicked and drowned the poor fern in even more water. Turns out, ferns like their soil consistently moist, not soaking wet. This is where the patience part comes in.

    Instead of frantically Googling “how to revive a drowning fern” every five minutes, I learned to observe, to water slowly, and to wait. To my surprise, the fern bounced back, teaching me that sometimes the best course of action is to chill out and let nature do its thing.

    Lesson #2: Growth is a Journey, Not a Race

    As weeks turned into months, my fern grew, albeit slowly. It wasn’t a dramatic, overnight transformation, but a gradual unfurling of new fronds, each one a small victory. I realized that growth, much like life, isn’t always linear or Instagram-worthy.

    There were also times when my fern needed a little help. A bit of fertilizer here, a new pot there. This taught me that asking for help, whether it’s from a gardening expert or a trusted friend, isn’t a sign of weakness but a sign of wisdom.

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant




    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant


    We’ve all been there. Scrolling through Instagram, you stumble upon a picture-perfect apartment boasting a jungle of thriving houseplants. Suddenly, your own humble abode feels severely lacking in the greenery department. That’s how I ended up, one impulsive shopping trip later, with a majestic (or so I thought) fern gracing my windowsill. Little did I know, this fern would teach me more than just how to keep a plant alive.

    Lesson #1: Patience is a Virtue (and so is Google)

    My first attempt at plant parenthood can only be described as “overenthusiastic.” I watered my fern religiously, convinced that more H2O equaled more happiness. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. In fact, my poor fern started to droop, its once-vibrant fronds turning a sickly shade of yellow. Panic set in. Was I a plant murderer already?

    Cue frantic Googling. Turns out, ferns are a bit dramatic. They like their soil moist but not soggy, and overwatering is a one-way ticket to Root Rot City (population: my dying fern). I learned, through trial and error (mostly error), the delicate dance of watering, drainage, and the importance of proper plant care research. Who knew there was so much to know about keeping a fern alive?

    fern, I eagerly awaited its triumphant return to its former glory. Days turned into weeks, and while it was no longer on the verge of collapse, it wasn’t exactly thriving either. It seemed stuck, frozen in a state of mediocre greenness.

    A quick internet search revealed another plant-parenting pro tip: sometimes, you need to prune away the dead weight to make way for new growth. Armed with a pair of kitchen scissors (don’t judge), I hesitantly snipped away the brown, crispy fronds. It felt brutal, like giving the plant a bad haircut. But guess what? New growth sprouted, healthier and more vibrant than before. It was a powerful reminder that sometimes, letting go of the past is essential for future flourishing.

    Lesson #3: Celebrate Small Victories (Like New Fronds)

    Here’s the funny thing about plants: they don’t care about your grand plans or your need for instant gratification. They grow at their own pace, in their own time. But when they do finally flourish, it’s pure magic. Witnessing a new frond unfurl, a tiny bud bloom, it fills you with a sense of quiet accomplishment. It’s a reminder to appreciate the small victories, the subtle signs of progress, in both the plant world and in life.

  • Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer: The Unexpected Joys of Plant Parenthood (and Why You Should Totally Join the Club)

    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer: The Unexpected Joys of Plant Parenthood (and Why You Should Totally Join the Club)




    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer: The Unexpected Joys of Plant Parenthood (and Why You Should Totally Join the Club)


    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent: My Story

    Let’s be honest, folks. For the longest time, my thumbs were about as green as a lump of coal. I’m talking succulent homicide, peace lily massacre – you name it, I’d accidentally offed it. So, naturally, the thought of becoming a “plant parent” filled me with a special kind of dread, usually reserved for trips to the dentist and doing my taxes.

    But then, something magical happened. My well-meaning but misguided friend gifted me a scraggly little peace lily for my birthday. Figuring it was already half-dead, I did the bare minimum: watered it occasionally, whispered apologies when I forgot, and basically hoped for the best.

    plant. That’s when it hit me: maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t destined for a life of horticultural homicide. Maybe, with a little effort (and a lot of Google searches), even I could experience the joys of plant parenthood.

    Why You Should Become a Plant Parent: Joy #1 – Plants are the Chillest Roommates

    Forget noisy neighbors, passive-aggressive roommates, or significant others who leave dirty socks on the floor. Plants are the ultimate low-maintenance companions. They don’t care if your apartment is a mess, they won’t judge your questionable taste in music, and they’ll never steal your leftovers.

    Seriously, all they ask for is a little sunlight, some water, and maybe a pep talk now and then (don’t judge, it works for me!). In return, they’ll purify your air, add a touch of life and color to your space, and make you feel like a domestic goddess/god who has their life together (even if you secretly don’t, like me!).

    Benefit #2 of Plant Parenthood: Watching Your Plant Babies Grow is Therapeutic

    Remember that feeling of accomplishment you got from completing a 1,000-piece puzzle? Or finally finishing that Netflix series you were binge-watching? Well, watching your plant babies sprout new leaves, unfurl delicate blooms, or even just stubbornly cling to life is surprisingly similar.

    It’s like a tiny reminder that even amidst the chaos of everyday life, growth and beauty are still possible. Plus, there’s something incredibly therapeutic about tending to your plants – it’s a chance to slow down, reconnect with nature, and forget about your worries for a while (unless, of course, you’re worried about overwatering, but that’s a story for another time).

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant



    houseplant casually perched on a shelf, radiating an aura of effortless serenity.

    “I need that,” I told myself, gazing at my own reflection in the dusty monitor. “A plant. That’s what’s missing from my life.”

    Operation Green Thumb: From Enthusiasm to Near-Disaster

    My journey into the world of indoor greenery started with the same enthusiasm I reserve for starting (and promptly abandoning) ambitious knitting projects. I envisioned myself as a modern-day plant whisperer, nurturing life and cultivating an oasis of calm in my otherwise chaotic apartment.

    plant mister (because, you know, humidity). My new leafy roommate seemed happy, even sprouting a new leaf. “See,” I told my skeptical cat, “I told you I could do this!”

    Then, life happened. Work deadlines piled up, social engagements filled my calendar, and my well-intentioned plant care routine flew out the window faster than you can say “overwatering.”

    Lesson #1: Neglect Taught Me About Resilience

    I’m ashamed to admit it, but there were weeks when my poor plant didn’t see a single drop of water. Its once-vibrant leaves drooped, turning a sickly shade of yellow. I felt a pang of guilt, of course, but mostly, I felt like a failure.

    But then, something interesting happened. Just when I was about to give up and relegate my poor plant to the compost bin of forgotten dreams, I noticed something: a tiny green shoot emerging from the base. It was as if the plant was saying, “Hey, I’m still here! I’m not giving up on you, so don’t give up on me!”

    That’s when it hit me: even when neglected, even when we feel like we’re wilting under the pressures of life, there’s a resilience within us that can’t be extinguished. Sometimes, all it takes is a little bit of hope—a tiny green shoot—to remind us that we’re capable of bouncing back.

    Lesson #2: Houseplants (and Life) Thrive with Less Control

    After my near-death experience with my plant (sorry, buddy!), I decided to do some research. Turns out, overwatering is a rookie mistake. Who knew?

  • Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer: The Unexpected Joys of Plant Parenthood (and Why You Should Join the Club)

    Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer: The Unexpected Joys of Plant Parenthood (and Why You Should Join the Club)

    Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer: The Unexpected Joys of Plant Parenthood (and Why You Should Join the Club)

    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Let’s be honest, I used to be a plant serial killer. I’d walk into the garden center with the best intentions, promising myself (and the poor, unsuspecting fern) that this time would be different. But alas, my track record spoke for itself: a graveyard of neglected succulents and overwatered peace lilies.

    Then something changed. Maybe it was the pandemic, maybe it was a quarter-life crisis, or maybe it was the realization that my apartment looked remarkably like a beige box. Whatever it was, I decided to give plant parenthood another shot. And you know what? It’s been one of the most rewarding (and hilarious) experiences of my life.

    Plant Therapy!

    Who knew that watching a leaf unfurl could be so darn therapeutic? Seriously, there’s something incredibly calming about tending to your plants. The act of watering, pruning, and even just talking to them (don’t judge!) can melt away the day’s stresses. Plus, unlike my goldfish growing up, they don’t stare back with judgment when I inevitably forget to feed them for a week (sorry, Finny).

    Here are a few ways my plant babies have become my own personal therapists:

    • Mindful moments: Caring for plants forces me to slow down and be present. No more scrolling through social media while simultaneously burning dinner!
    • Sense of accomplishment: Every new leaf, bloom, or even just a plant that doesn’t die on me feels like a major victory. Take that, self-doubt!
    • Connection to nature: Living in a concrete jungle, it’s easy to forget the beauty of the natural world. My plants bring a little bit of the outdoors in, even if it’s just a rogue spider plant hanging from the ceiling.

    From Drab to Fab: Plants as Interior Design Hacks

    Remember that beige box I mentioned earlier? Well, let’s just say my plants have done wonders for my apartment’s aesthetic. A pop of green here, a trailing vine there, and suddenly my place looks like it belongs in an interior design magazine (or at least a slightly cooler version of my grandma’s house).

    And the best part? Plants are like living art! They add texture, color, and life to a room in a way that no mass-produced print ever could. Plus, they’re a great conversation starter. Just be prepared for questions like, “Is that a real plant?” or “How do you keep it alive?!”

  • Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Join the Club)

    Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Join the Club)




    Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Join the Club)


    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Let’s be honest, I used to be a plant assassin. I’m talking serial killer level. I’d walk into a plant store, eyes filled with hope, promising myself (and the poor, unsuspecting fern) that this time would be different. But alas, weeks later, it would be brown leaves and drooping stems all over again. I was convinced I was cursed with a black thumb, destined to live in a plant-free zone.

    But then, something changed. Maybe it was the pandemic, maybe it was a desperate cry for help from my neglected succulents, but I decided to give plant parenthood one last shot. And guess what? It worked! Not only did my plants thrive (some even multiplied!), but I discovered a whole world of unexpected joys I never knew existed.

    Stress Relief? More Like Plant Therapy!

    Remember those adult coloring books everyone was obsessed with? Yeah, plants are way better. There’s something incredibly therapeutic about digging in the dirt, pruning leaves, and just being present with your green buddies. It’s like meditation, but with more chlorophyll.

    Plus, watching your plant babies grow and flourish is seriously satisfying. Remember that one time you managed to keep a human alive for like, a year? (Parenting is hard, y’all.) Well, imagine that feeling, but with less crying and diaper changes.