Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: houseplants

  • The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and Why You Should Join the Club)

    The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and Why You Should Join the Club)

    The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and Why You Should Join the Club)

    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 cacti, for crying out loud! But then, something shifted. Maybe it was the pandemic-induced desire for a connection with nature, or perhaps it was just sheer boredom, but I brought home a humble little snake plant named Steve.

    plant parenthood.

    The Quirky Conversations (and Life Lessons) of Plant Parenthood

    One of the most unexpected joys of plant parenthood? The conversations. Now, before you call the folks in white coats, hear me out. When you’re the proud parent of a leafy friend, you find yourself engaging in the most absurd dialogues.

    “Oh, you’re looking a little droopy today, Philodendron Phil. Did I overwater you? Under-water you? Are you just feeling dramatic?”

    And the best part? You’ll never feel judged. Plants are the ultimate listeners, offering silent but sage advice like, “Just chill out and photosynthesize, man.” It’s surprisingly therapeutic.

    Conquering Pests and Celebrating Growth: The Plant Parent Rollercoaster

    There’s nothing quite like the feeling of watching your plant baby sprout a new leaf. It’s a tangible reminder that you’re doing something right, that you’re keeping another living being alive (a feat some days seem impossible, am I right?).

    But let’s not forget the challenges. Oh, the challenges! From the dreaded fungus gnats to the mealybugs that appear out of thin air, being a plant parent comes with its fair share of battles. But here’s the thing: even the struggles are oddly rewarding. You learn to become a problem-solver, a detective, a warrior in the fight for your plant’s well-being.

  • The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent

    The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent



    Plant Parent

    Plant Killer (Almost)

    My journey into plant parenthood began like a rom-com montage – sun-drenched trips to the nursery, whispered promises of “thriving, not just surviving,” and visions of my apartment transformed into a verdant paradise. Fast forward to reality, and let’s just say my thumbs were less than green. I’m talking crispy edges, wilting stems, and a graveyard of terracotta pots that haunted my dreams (okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but you get the picture).

    But amidst the botanical carnage, something strange happened. I learned. I adapted. I even (dare I say it?) succeeded! Turns out, there’s a whole set of unspoken rules to this plant parenting gig, and once you master them, you unlock a world of leafy joy (and maybe a slight obsession with fertilizer, but that’s a story for another day).

    Plants, my friends, are masters of passive aggression. They won’t yell at you for forgetting to water them, but they will subtly droop, brown, or even shed a leaf or two just to keep you on your toes. Consider it their way of adding a little drama to your life.

    Rule #2: One Person’s Trash is Another Plant’s Treasure (Literally)

    Remember that banana peel you were about to toss? Or those eggshells you thought were destined for the compost bin? Hold up! You’ve got plant food gold in your hands, my friend. From coffee grounds to used tea bags, everyday kitchen scraps can be transformed into nutrient-rich treats for your leafy companions.

    Not only will you be reducing waste and channeling your inner eco-warrior, but your plants will reward you with lush growth and maybe even a grateful nod (okay, maybe not the nod, but a girl can dream!).

    The Green Thumb Awaits

    So there you have it – the unspoken rules of plant parenthood, revealed! It’s a journey filled with ups and downs, triumphs and tribulations, but most importantly, a whole lot of leafy love. Now, tell me, what are some of the hilarious or heartwarming moments you’ve experienced as a plant parent? Share your stories in the comments below!


  • 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 (Well, Almost)

    Let’s be honest, my thumbs have never been mistaken for emerald green. In fact, I’m pretty sure I could kill a cactus in a desert. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a houseplant – a supposedly “unkillable” ZZ plant – I accepted with a smile and a healthy dose of skepticism. Little did I know, this leafy green roommate would end up teaching me more about life than I ever expected.

    plant parenthood were, shall we say, overzealous. I watered the poor ZZ like it was a marathon runner in the Sahara Desert. Surprise, surprise, the leaves started to yellow. After some frantic Googling, I learned about the fine art of “less is more” when it came to watering. I apologized profusely to my plant, promising to do better. And you know what? It bounced back. Stronger, even.

    Seeing that little ZZ plant rally after my unintentional neglect was a powerful reminder that we’re all more resilient than we think. Life’s going to throw curveballs – bad days at work, relationship woes, that second helping of dessert you swore you wouldn’t eat. But just like my resilient ZZ, we have the strength to weather the storms and come out the other side, maybe a little battered, but still growing.

    Lesson #2: Finding Patience: A Virtue Learned From a Houseplant

    Now, I’m a bit of an instant gratification kind of gal. I like my coffee hot, my internet faster, and my results yesterday. So, imagine my surprise when my ZZ plant didn’t sprout new leaves every other day. It took weeks, sometimes months, to see any noticeable growth.

    At first, I’d stare at it, willing it to sprout faster. Then, I realized the absurdity of it all. Plants grow at their own pace. There’s no rushing the process. This realization was a tough pill to swallow, but a necessary one. It taught me the importance of patience, not just with my plant, but with my own life. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither are our dreams. Sometimes, the most rewarding things in life take time, dedication, and a whole lot of waiting (and maybe a little bit of fertilizer).

  • Is My Houseplant Judging My Life Choices? (The Evidence is Compelling)

    Is My Houseplant Judging My Life Choices? (The Evidence is Compelling)





    We’ve all been there. Scrolling through social media, comparing our lives to perfectly curated feeds, and suddenly…bam. The crushing realization that even our houseplants are judging our life choices.

    Okay, maybe not. But hear me out.

    The Day My Plant Parent Guilt Took Root

    It all started innocently enough. I was watering Beatrice (yes, she has a name, don’t judge), my prize-winning peace lily, when I noticed something unsettling. Her leaves, once droopy and on the verge of a dramatic fainting episode, were now perky and vibrant, practically glowing with good health.

    Meanwhile, I was surviving on coffee and dry cereal, hadn’t seen the sun in days thanks to a brutal deadline, and couldn’t remember the last time I watered myself, let alone practiced self-care.

    choices.

    Exhibit A: My Friend’s Perfect Fiddle Leaf Fig (and Life)

    My suspicions grew when I visited my friend, Sarah. Now, Sarah is the epitome of organization and balance. Her life is a Pinterest board come to life, complete with a successful career, a fulfilling social life, and a home that looks like it belongs in a magazine.

    And her houseplants? Don’t even get me started.

    Her fiddle leaf fig, notoriously finicky and prone to drama, was a towering testament to her plant parenting prowess. It was practically touching her ceiling, its leaves a vibrant emerald green, with nary a brown spot in sight.

  • The Day I Realized My Plant Was Judging My Life Choices

    The Day I Realized My Plant Was Judging My Life Choices



    The Day My Plant Judged My Life Choices: A Hilarious Tale of Green Guilt

    We’ve all been there. You’re sprawled on the couch in your oldest sweatpants, a half-eaten bag of chips dangerously close to becoming your dinner, binge-watching reality TV for the third hour straight. It’s fine, you tell yourself, everyone needs a night off. But then, you catch it. A flash of green in the corner of your eye. You turn your head slowly, and there it is: your plant, leaves perfectly perched, silently judging your every move.

    The Shameful Stare of a Fiddle Leaf Fig

    My personal journey into the secretly judgmental world of plants began with Ferdinand, my fiddle leaf fig. Now, Ferdinand isn’t just any plant. He’s a drama queen, a diva, a green-leafed emperor who demands constant attention and the perfect amount of indirect sunlight. I, on the other hand, am… well, let’s just say my life doesn’t always scream “responsible plant parent.”

    It was a Tuesday, I think. Or maybe a Wednesday? Honestly, the days all blur together when you’re existing solely on caffeine and the promise of ordering takeout later. I was in my usual state of post-work slump, scrolling through social media with the attention span of a goldfish. Ferdinand was basking in his usual spot by the window, looking effortlessly elegant as always.

    Suddenly, I felt a shift in the atmosphere. A prickling sensation on the back of my neck. I looked up, and that’s when I saw it. Ferdinand’s leaves seemed to be… drooping? Was he wilting? Panicking, I scrambled for my watering can, only to realize I’d forgotten to refill it (again). As I sheepishly filled the can, I could have sworn Ferdinand let out a dramatic sigh. Okay, maybe not a sigh, but there was definitely some serious side-eye happening.

  • 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, Once Brown, Now Slightly Green

    I’ll admit, I wasn’t always a plant person. In fact, I was the human equivalent of a drought. My track record with anything leafy was less than stellar, marked by a trail of crispy leaves and silent accusations. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a houseplant – a cheerful little peace lily, she claimed – I accepted with feigned enthusiasm and a mental countdown to its inevitable demise.

    But something strange happened. Maybe it was the pity I felt for the poor thing, or maybe it was the sheer determination to prove my friend wrong, but I found myself actually trying. And you know what? My plant thrived! It sprouted new leaves, bloomed with unexpected flowers, and even seemed to perk up when I walked into the room (or maybe I was just projecting). The point is, this little plant, this green symbol of my past failures, became my unlikely teacher, imparting valuable life lessons I never expected.

    Lesson 1: Cultivating Patience Through Plant Parenthood

    One of the first things I learned from my plant is that patience isn’t just a virtue; it’s a necessity. You can’t rush growth, no matter how much you might want to. Just like you can’t force a bud to bloom, you can’t force progress in life. Sometimes, you just have to wait, water consistently, and trust the process.

    There were times when I’d stare at my plant, willing it to grow faster, willing it to sprout new leaves overnight. But nature, as they say, takes its time. And in that time, I learned to appreciate the subtle changes, the slow but steady progress. I learned that the most rewarding things in life, like lush foliage and personal growth, take time and consistent effort.

    [IMAGE_DESCRIPTION: Humorous image of the author
  • 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 Journey From Plant Killer to (Slightly) Less Brown Thumb

    Let’s be honest, my history with plants was less than stellar. I’m pretty sure I could kill a cactus in a desert. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a perfectly healthy peace lily, I accepted with a grimace disguised as gratitude. “Don’t worry,” I told her, “I’ve totally turned over a new leaf!” (Pun intended, of course). Little did I know, this leafy green roommate would teach me more than just how to keep something alive.

    Peace Lily

    The first few weeks were a crash course in Plant Parenthood 101. I overwatered, underwatered, and nearly repotted the poor thing in a fit of misguided enthusiasm. Just when I thought all hope was lost, my droopy, yellowing peace lily taught me a valuable lesson: sometimes, you just need to breathe.

    Turns out, plants are pretty good at signaling their needs. Wilting leaves? Needs water. Brown spots? Too much sun. By paying attention to these subtle cues, I learned to slow down, observe, and respond thoughtfully, not just to my plant‘s needs but to my own as well. Who knew a little mindful observation could be so grounding?

    Lesson #2: Cultivating Patience – The Slow, Sweet Reward of New Growth

    Now, I’m a pretty impatient person. I like instant gratification, quick results, and the ability to fast-forward through the boring parts of life (and movies, let’s be real). But my peace lily, bless its heart, operates on its own sweet time.

    Waiting for new growth became a lesson in delayed gratification. It taught me to appreciate the small victories – a new leaf unfurling, a subtle shift towards the sunlight. This newfound patience even spilled over into other areas of my life. Suddenly, I wasn’t as fazed by long lines at the grocery store or traffic jams on the freeway.

  • 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 photo of a verdant paradise masquerading as someone’s living room. Lush ferns cascade over bookshelves, succulents bask in sunbeams, and a monstera plant bigger than any human has the right to own stretches its leaves towards the ceiling. “I need that in my life,” you think, and before you know it, you’re elbow-deep in potting soil at your local nursery.

    My Brush with Plant Parenthood and a Fiddle Leaf Fig

    That’s how I, self-proclaimed plant killer extraordinaire, ended up adopting Ferdinand the Fiddle Leaf Fig. He was a sight to behold, with his glossy, violin-shaped leaves and an air of quiet dignity. I envisioned us sipping tea together (me, literally; him, metaphorically), basking in the glow of our shared love for photosynthesis.

    Needless to say, reality had other plans.

    plant parenthood could best be described as “helicopter parent meets anxious overwatering.” I hovered, I misted, I checked the soil moisture with the fervor of a prospector panning for gold. Ferdinand, in response, started to wilt. His leaves, once proud and perky, drooped like a teenager forced to endure a family vacation.

    It took a firm talking-to from my plant-guru friend (yes, those exist) to realize I was smothering the poor guy. Sometimes, she explained, less is more. Let the soil dry out between waterings. Give him some space to breathe. In essence, tough love, plant-style.

    To my surprise, it worked. Ferdinand perked up, seemingly grateful for the breathing room (or maybe just happy to be alive). It was a valuable lesson, not just in plant care, but in life: sometimes, stepping back and giving space, even when it feels counterintuitive, is the best thing you can do.

    Lesson #2: Patience and the Beauty of Gradual Growth

    Now, you’d think I would have learned my lesson about over-enthusiasm. Alas, after successfully not killing Ferdinand for a few months, I fell into the trap of expectation. I envisioned him growing into a majestic tree, its leaves brushing against my ceiling, casting cool, verdant shadows across the room.

    But Ferdinand, it seemed, had other plans. He stubbornly refused to grow more than a centimeter or two, despite my best efforts (and occasional pep talks). I fertilized, I rotated, I even played him Mozart, convinced it would spur some sort of botanical symphony of growth. Nothing.

    And then, one day, I woke up to find a new leaf unfurling. It happened overnight, this tiny sprout of green reaching towards the sun, a testament to the silent, steady growth that had been happening all along, hidden from my impatient eyes.

  • The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent

    The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent




    The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent


    We all know the basic rules of plant parenthood, right? Provide sunlight, water occasionally, don’t let them turn into crunchy brown skeletons. Easy peasy! Or so I thought, before I was initiated into the secret society of Plant Parents. Turns out, there’s a whole set of unspoken rules that nobody tells you about.

    My Fern-tastic Initiation into Plant Parenthood

    My journey began innocently enough. I adopted a cute little fern, its fronds a vibrant green. I proudly displayed it on my windowsill, picturing myself as a natural nurturer, someone who could keep even the most delicate beings alive. I watered it diligently, sang to it (don’t judge), and even gave it a name (Fernie, in case you were wondering). Then, tragedy struck. Fernie started to droop. Its once-proud fronds shriveled, turning a sickly yellow.

    Panicked, I did what any self-respecting millennial would do – I googled it. Turns out, I was lovingly drowning poor Fernie. Thus began my crash course in the unspoken rules of plant parenthood.

    Rule #1: Google: Plant Parent Savior & Source of Anxiety

    Seriously, Google is a double-edged sword. On one hand, it’s a treasure trove of information. Yellow leaves? Google it. Brown spots? Google it. Plant suddenly doing the Macarena? Definitely Google it (and send video evidence).

    But here’s the catch – Google can also be a source of immense anxiety. Every search result leads to another potential problem, each more terrifying than the last. You’ll find yourself spiraling down a rabbit hole of root rot, spider mites, and fungal diseases, convinced your plant is on its deathbed.

  • 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


    Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly known for my green thumb. In fact, my plant-parenting skills are more comparable to a desert sandstorm than a nurturing rainforest. So, when my well-intentioned friend gifted me a leafy Calathea Orbifolia (a notoriously dramatic diva of the plant world), I knew I was in for a wild ride.

    From Black Thumb to…Slightly Less Black Thumb

    My journey with Orbie (yes, I named her) started out predictably rocky. I managed to overwater her within the first week, resulting in droopy leaves that seemed to judge my every move.

    life, I suppose): even when we mess up royally, there’s always a chance for redemption. I finally learned to pay attention to Orbie’s subtle cues. Her drooping leaves taught me the importance of listening, of observing the needs of those around me (and not just assuming I know what’s best). Who knew a plant could be such a demanding yet insightful teacher?

    Learning Patience From a Calathea

    We live in a world obsessed with instant gratification. Want to watch a movie? Stream it now. Need groceries? Order online. But Orbie, with her slow and steady growth, taught me the beauty of patience. I learned to appreciate the small victories: a new leaf unfurling, a subtle shift towards the sunlight.