Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: houseplants

  • Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me (And Other Weird Habits I’ve Developed)

    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me (And Other Weird Habits I’ve Developed)




    Does My Houseplant Judge Me? (And Other Weird Plant Lady Habits)

    The Day My Fiddle Leaf Fig Rolled Its Eyes

    I swear it happened. I was mid-monologue, lamenting the tragic demise of my sourdough starter (RIP, Doughey), when I caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye. My prized fiddle leaf fig, Ferdinand, had subtly shifted a leaf, and I kid you not, it felt like a judgmental eye roll.

    plant lady in all of us, myself very much included.

    Deciphering the Language of Limp Leaves and Dramatic Droops

    Living with plants is like living with a roommate who communicates solely through interpretive dance and the occasional sigh. One day, they’re reaching for the sky, full of life and verdant glory. The next, they’re dramatically drooping, leaves limply protesting your neglect. You find yourself transforming into a plant detective, frantically Googling things like:

    • “Why is my monstera sweating?”
    • “Help! My succulent looks…prune-y?”
    • “Is my peace lily judging my life choices? (Again??)”

    You become fluent in the subtle language of leaf discoloration, the nuanced vocabulary of wilting. You learn to differentiate between “I need water” thirsty and “I’m over it” thirsty. It’s a crash course in botany, anxiety, and overthinking, all rolled into one.

    From Anxious Plant Parent to Full-Blown Plant Whisperer

    My relationship with Ferdinand, and by extension all my houseplants, has evolved into something… different. I don’t just water them; I engage in one-sided conversations about my day. I narrate my cooking mishaps to my basil plant, convinced it’s absorbing my culinary wisdom through osmosis. I’ve even started playing them classical music, convinced it enhances their growth (don’t judge me!).

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    From Black Thumb to… Less Black Thumb?

    Let’s be honest, my thumbs have always been a slightly concerning shade of charcoal gray. I’m drawn to the idea of a home filled with vibrant, oxygen-producing greenery, but my track record with plants was less “thriving jungle” and more “desolate wasteland.” So, imagine my surprise when my latest houseplant, a spunky little ZZ plant named Zephyr, not only survived but thrived under my care. Turns out, Zephyr wasn’t just adding to my home décor; he was dispensing some serious life lessons.

    Zephyr, in all his leafy wisdom, taught me the importance of patience. I’m a notorious instant-gratification seeker, but plant growth, as it happens, doesn’t really work that way. I’d stare at Zephyr for hours, willing him to sprout new growth.

    “C’mon, buddy,” I’d whisper, “Just a leaf? A little sprout? Anything?”

    Of course, Zephyr remained indifferent to my pleas. He grew at his own pace, teaching me that sometimes, the best things in life (like new leaves and personal growth) take time. And maybe a little less frantic whispering.

    Lesson #2: Tough Love is Still Love

    Now, I’m a natural-born nurturer. Give me a wilting flower or a sad-looking sourdough starter, and I’m there with words of encouragement and maybe a tiny pep talk. But Zephyr, bless his heart, taught me that sometimes, tough love is the way to go.

    I’m talking about resisting the urge to water him every time his leaves looked at me sideways. Overwatering, I learned the hard way, is a thing. Just like in life, sometimes we need to step back, give things space, and let them find their own strength. (Though, to be fair, I’m still working on applying this logic to my love of baking cookies at 2 a.m.)

  • 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. You’re wandering the aisles of your local grocery store, minding your own business, when suddenly, you lock eyes.

    It’s not a celebrity sighting, no. It’s something much more powerful— a clearance rack. And on that glorious, orange-stickered haven of discounted dreams sits a sad, wilted houseplant, practically begging for a second chance at life.

    From Grocery Store Reject to Unlikely Guru

    That’s how I met Ferdinand the Fern. He was a sorry sight, all droopy fronds and bone-dry soil. But something about his pathetic little existence spoke to me. Maybe it was the “75% off” sticker, or maybe it was destiny. Either way, I, self-proclaimed plant enthusiast with a graveyard of succulents in my past, decided to take a chance on him.

    Ferdinand wasn’t just any fern. He was about to become my unlikely life coach, teaching me more about resilience, self-care, and the importance of a good soak than any self-help book ever could.

    Lesson #1: The Importance of Self-Care (and Watering Your Plants)

    My first mistake with Ferdinand (and let’s be honest, probably with all my previous plant victims) was assuming he’d thrive on neglect. I watered him sporadically, if I remembered, and generally treated him like a piece of furniture that occasionally needed dusting.

    Ferdinand, bless his heart, did not thrive. He continued to wilt, his fronds turning an alarming shade of yellow. Just when I was about to accept defeat (again), I stumbled upon a plant care blog. Turns out, ferns are a little dramatic. They need regular watering, humidity, and the occasional pep talk. Who knew?

    So, I got to work. I repotted Ferdinand in fresh soil, found him a sunny spot by the window, and started misting him every day like the high-maintenance diva he was. And slowly but surely, he began to perk up. His fronds unfurled, revealing vibrant green new growth. He was practically glowing.

  • Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Join My Club)

    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Join My Club)






    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Let’s be honest, I wasn’t always this “in tune” with nature. My thumbs were more charcoal than green – we’re talking Sahara Desert levels of dryness. If plants could send out restraining orders, I’m pretty sure I’d have a stack taller than my Monstera (which, by some miracle, is actually thriving!).

    It all started with a sad-looking succulent I impulsively bought at the grocery store. It was tiny, prickly, and I was convinced I could keep this one alive. Spoiler alert: I almost didn’t. But that near-death experience (for the succulent, not me) sparked something in me.

    Plants (Yes, Really!)

    Fast forward through a montage of overwatering, underwatering, and frantic Google searches, I started to understand my little green roommates. I learned that my peace lily dramatically drooping? That’s not her being dramatic, it’s her way of saying “Water me, you plant neglecting fiend!”

    And let’s not forget the time I swear my prayer plant “clapped” its leaves together when I finally moved it to a sunnier spot. Okay, maybe it was just a breeze, but I choose to believe it was plant applause for my newfound parenting skills.

    The point is, being a plant parent isn’t just about keeping something green alive (though, let’s be real, that’s a victory in itself). It’s about connecting with nature in a way that’s surprisingly hilarious and heartwarming.

    The Unexpected Perks of Turning Your Home into a Mini Jungle

    Now, before you picture me swinging from vines in a full-blown jungle, let me clarify: my apartment is more “controlled jungle chic.” But the benefits of having houseplants are undeniable!

    • Stress relief: Nothing calms the nerves like digging in the dirt and nurturing another living thing. Except maybe chocolate. But this is way healthier!
    • Air purification: Plants are basically nature’s air filters. They’re like the quiet roommates who also happen to clean up after your dusty habits.
    • Insta-worthy decor: Let’s be honest, a well-placed fiddle leaf fig can make any room look 10x more stylish. Plus, it’s a great conversation starter (and by “conversation starter,” I mean a way to subtly brag about your plant parenting skills).
  • My Houseplants Are Totally Judging My Life Choices (and Here’s Why)

    My Houseplants Are Totally Judging My Life Choices (and Here’s Why)





    Is It Just Me, or Do My Plants Secretly Judge Me?

    The other day, I was sprawled on the couch, halfway through a bag of chips, binge-watching reality TV in my pajamas. You know, just peak “adulting.” As I reached for another chip, I caught a glimpse of my majestic fiddle leaf fig, its leaves perfectly poised, practically gleaming with good health.

    And then it hit me. That plant was judging me.

    Okay, maybe not literally. But the contrast between its put-together existence and my own hot mess was almost comical. It got me thinking: am I the only one who feels personally judged by their houseplants?

    Houseplants Is Real

    Let’s be honest, plants are pretty much the epitome of having your life together. They wake up, bask in the sunlight, sip on some water, and just…thrive. Meanwhile, I can barely remember to water them on a semi-consistent basis, let alone achieve that level of zen-like existence.

    I swear, sometimes when I forget to water my peace lily (the irony!), its drooping leaves seem to whisper, “Seriously? Again? I literally only need ONE thing from you.” And don’t even get me started on the passive-aggressive wilting. It’s like a silent guilt trip in plant form.

    My Plants Have Seen It ALL

    Here’s the thing about houseplants: they’re always there. Silent, unmoving witnesses to our daily lives. That means they’ve seen it all:

    • The good (rare) days when I’m actually productive and put-together.
    • The bad days when I’m pretty sure I’ve worn the same pajamas for three days straight.
    • And the ugly cries over everything from burnt dinner to existential dread.

    Honestly, it’s a wonder they haven’t staged an intervention. Or worse, developed sentience and written a tell-all memoir about my questionable life choices.

  • Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me

    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me



    We’ve all been there. You’re going about your day, maybe in your pajamas at 2 p.m. on a Tuesday, debating whether cereal counts as lunch (again), when you catch it. That side-eye. From your plant.

    The Day My Fiddle Leaf Fig Threw Shade

    Okay, maybe “threw shade” is a bit dramatic. But let me set the scene. I was attempting, with very limited success, to untangle my headphones for the fourth time that morning.

    like I was emanating some kind of chaotic energy it wanted no part of.

    I laughed it off, of course. Plants can’t judge, right? They don’t have the capacity for complex emotions like disdain or the ability to tell time, let alone judge my questionable life choices. Right?

    But a seed of doubt was planted (pun intended). And since then, I’ve noticed a few things…

    Exhibit A: The Wilting Witness: Do Plants Show Disapproval?

    We’ve all experienced the guilt trip of a wilting plant. You forget to water it for a few days (or, let’s be honest, a week), and suddenly it looks like it’s about to stage a dramatic death scene. You rush to give it a good soak, whispering apologies and promises of a better future.

  • Why I’m Convinced My Plant is Secretly Judging Me

    Why I’m Convinced My Plant is Secretly Judging Me



    Why I’m Convinced My Plant Is Secretly Judging Me

    We all know that plants breathe life into a room, but have you ever considered they might be silently judging yours? I didn’t, until I lived with Herbert.

    Does My ZZ Plant Give Side-Eye?

    It all started innocently. I brought Herbert, a charming little ZZ plant, home from the garden center, picturing us becoming the best of leafy friends. I envisioned peaceful mornings sipping coffee while he basked in the sun, radiating zen vibes. And for a while, it was pure plant-parent bliss.

    Herbert‘s gaze. Or rather, what I swear was a gaze. His usually perky leaves seemed to droop ever so slightly, and I could have sworn he was leaning away from me, as if my bad mood was contagious. Okay, maybe I was projecting, but the seed of doubt was sown.

    Is My Plant Judging My Life Choices?

    Over the next few weeks, I started noticing a pattern. Every time I indulged in questionable life choices—like surviving on instant ramen for three days straight or attempting (and failing) to assemble furniture—Herbert’s leaves would wilt just a tad. Was he disappointed? Judging my questionable coping mechanisms? The evidence was stacking up.

    My friends, all seasoned plant owners themselves, scoffed at my theory. “Plants don’t judge,” they’d say, “They’re just plants!” But I knew better. I’d catch him subtly shifting his leaves when my dating app profile popped up on screen. Was he judging my taste in potential partners? I wouldn’t put it past him.

    The Ultimate Test: Forgetting to Water My ZZ Plant

    The final straw, the piece de resistance of Herbert’s silent judgment, came during a particularly chaotic week. I, in my sleep-deprived state, completely forgot to water him. For a whole week. Now, ZZ plants are known for their resilience, their ability to withstand drought like a champ. But even champions have their limits.

  • 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


    From Black Thumb to Budding Botanist: My Houseplant Journey

    Let’s be honest, I’m about as far from a “plant person” as you can get. My idea of gardening is picking up a bouquet at the grocery store. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a houseplant – a supposedly “easy-to-care-for” ZZ plant – I accepted with a smile that was equal parts polite and panicked.

    “Don’t worry,” my friend chirped, “It practically thrives on neglect!” Famous last words, right?

    Plant Parenthood

    My first hurdle? Figuring out what “neglect” actually meant. Did it need sunlight? (Apparently, yes, but not the direct, scorching kind that turns its leaves into potato chips. Who knew?) How often should I water it? (Turns out, overwatering is a rookie mistake. My bad, little ZZ.)

    I quickly learned that being a plant parent, even to a low-maintenance one, required a skill I was sorely lacking: patience. I spent hours on Google, scouring forums and articles, trying to decipher the cryptic language of plant care. I even started talking to my plant, asking it what it needed, like some kind of crazy plant whisperer. (Don’t judge, it felt therapeutic.)

    But slowly, things started to change. I learned to read the subtle signs of thirst (droopy leaves) and overwatering (yellowing leaves, oh the guilt!). I discovered the magic of fertilizer (who knew poop could be so beneficial?) and the importance of proper drainage.

    Lesson #2: Embracing Growth (and Repotting Anxieties)

    As the weeks turned into months, I watched in amazement as my ZZ plant actually started to thrive. New shoots emerged, unfurling like tiny green flags of victory. It was a slow and steady process, but each new leaf felt like a personal accomplishment.

    But then came the day when my once-tiny plant had outgrown its pot. It was time for repotting, a task that filled me with an irrational fear (what if I accidentally murdered it in cold blood…or rather, cold soil?).

    Yet again, I turned to my trusty friend Google and, with a deep breath and a prayer to the plant gods, I tackled the repotting process. And you know what? It wasn’t a disaster! In fact, my ZZ seemed to relish its new spacious digs.

  • 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 Was Anything But Green

    Okay, confession time: I am the queen of killing houseplants. Seriously, I could turn a cactus into a pile of dust. So, imagine my surprise when my well-meaning friend gifted me a perfectly healthy (and might I add, very Instagrammable) Monstera Deliciosa for my birthday. I panicked. My inner monologue went something like this: “Don’t kill it, don’t kill it, please don’t kill it!”

    Monty the Monstera’s (yes, I named him) undeniable charm. Whatever it was, I decided to commit. I read every plant care article I could find, consulted YouTube gurus, and even downloaded a plant app (don’t judge). And guess what? Monty thrived! And in the process, he taught me a thing or two about life.

    Patience is a Virtue (and Surprisingly Good for Plants)

    I’m not known for my patience. Instant gratification is more my style. But Monty, bless his leafy heart, taught me the value of slow and steady progress. He didn’t sprout new leaves overnight (though believe me, I checked… every day). He took his sweet time, soaking up the sunshine and patiently growing at his own pace. And when he finally unfurled a new leaf, the satisfaction was immense. It was a powerful reminder that good things take time, both in plant life and in our own lives.

    Sometimes You Need Support (Just Like a Monstera Needs a Moss Pole)

    As Monty grew taller and prouder, I noticed he started to lean dangerously. He was reaching for something to climb, something to support his growth. That’s when I discovered the magic of a moss pole. This simple addition gave Monty the stability he craved and allowed him to flourish even more.

  • Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Judging Me

    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Judging Me




    Does My Houseplant Judge Me? (This Might Be a Sign)


    The Eyewitness Testimony of a Wilting Peace Lily

    Let me preface this by saying I consider myself a relatively responsible adult. I pay my bills on time (most of the time), I call my mother regularly (okay, semi-regularly), and I haven’t burned ramen noodles in at least a month. Yet, here I stand, accused by the silent judgment of a leafy green jury of one: my peace lily, Ferdinand.

    It all started subtly. Ferdinand, usually a vibrant picture of, well, peace and lily-ness, started to droop. At first, I brushed it off. “He’s just dramatic,” I told myself, misting his leaves with a nonchalance I didn’t entirely feel. But then the drooping escalated to a full-blown wilt. His once perky leaves now resembled sad, green tears.

    Ferdinand‘s light, watered him according to the very specific instructions on his little plastic tag, and even serenaded him with Mozart (okay, maybe it was Lizzo, but the point is, I made an effort!). But Ferdinand remained unconvinced. In fact, I swear he started giving me the side-eye. You know, that universal look that says, “Are you serious right now?”

    It was then, in the quiet solitude of my living room, that it hit me: Ferdinand wasn’t just sad, he was judging me. Every wilted leaf, every brown spot, was a silent indictment of my life choices.

    • That pile of laundry I’d been meaning to wash for a week? Judgment.
    • The leftover takeout containers cluttering the counter? Silent disapproval.
    • The fact that I hadn’t called my mother back? Oh, he knew.