Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: houseplants

  • 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.

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    My Thumb Went From Brown to Slightly Green

    Let’s be honest, my history with plants was less than stellar. My track record involved more crispy leaves and wilted stems than I care to admit. I was basically the plant grim reaper, single-handedly decimating any leafy friend that dared to grace my windowsill. So, imagine my surprise when I managed to not only keep a houseplant alive but also learn some valuable life lessons along the way.

    Growth

    My first lesson came in the form of a frustratingly slow-growing ZZ plant. I’m talking glacial pace, people. I practically camped out next to the pot, willing it to sprout a new leaf. Where was the instant gratification? The overnight success story?

    Turns out, real growth takes time. Just like that stubborn ZZ plant, personal growth doesn’t happen overnight. It requires patience, consistency, and a whole lot of trust in the process. It’s about celebrating the small victories, those tiny new leaves that signal progress, even if it feels like an eternity.

    Lesson #2: Embrace Challenges for Growth

    Here’s the thing about plants (and maybe people too): Sometimes they need a little tough love. I’m talking about saying no to the urge to overwater, to fuss, to constantly repot in a larger space. Sometimes, a little bit of struggle is what helps them grow stronger roots.

    This resonated with me on a personal level. We all have comfort zones we cling to, but stepping outside of them, embracing challenges, can lead to incredible growth. It’s about learning to thrive, not just survive, and realizing that sometimes a little discomfort is the catalyst for something extraordinary.

  • 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 gardening prowess. In fact, my previous attempts at plant parenthood could be best described as unintentional plant homicide. I overwatered, underwatered, and exposed them to sunlight levels that would make a vampire cringe. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a peace lily, I accepted it with a mix of trepidation and a silent prayer for the poor thing.

    plant like it was a newborn panda in a snowstorm. I watered it every other day, gave it plant food like it was candy, and even sang to it (don’t judge!).

    Then, one day, I noticed the leaves were drooping. “Oh no!” I thought, “I’ve killed it!” I was ready to write its eulogy when my plant-loving friend came over and saw my watering schedule. “Whoa there, cowboy!” she exclaimed, “You’re drowning the poor thing!”

    Turns out, sometimes the best thing you can do is back off a little. Give it space to breathe, literally. It was a hard lesson for this over-enthusiastic plant parent, but the peace lily bounced back, teaching me that sometimes, a little tough love is exactly what’s needed.

    Lesson #2: Growth Isn’t Always Obvious

    For a while, my peace lily seemed content with just existing. It wasn’t wilting, but it wasn’t exactly shooting up new leaves either. I started to worry that maybe I’d stunted its growth with my earlier overzealousness. Maybe this was as good as it got.

    Then, one morning, while I was watering it (on schedule, I swear!), I noticed something incredible: a tiny, tightly furled new leaf emerging from the soil. It was small, almost insignificant, but it was there. A testament to the quiet, persistent growth that was happening beneath the surface, hidden from my impatient eyes.

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant



    My Brown Thumb Meets a Green Roommate

    Let’s be honest, I’m not known for my nurturing abilities. My thumbs are less green and more… well, let’s just say cacti shudder when I walk by. So, when a friend gifted me a supposedly “unkillable” ZZ plant, I accepted with trepidation. I knew what fate awaited this poor, unsuspecting soul.

    Lesson #1: Resilience is Key

    As predicted, my reign of terror began almost immediately. I overwatered, underwatered, and even spilled coffee on it (twice!). Yet, to my astonishment, it persisted. It drooped, it browned, it looked ready to file a restraining order, but it never gave up. This “unkillable” plant was living up to its name, and teaching me a valuable lesson about resilience. Just like my resilient plant, I realized, we humans can bounce back from adversity. We just need to tap into our inner ZZ plant.

    Lesson #2: Growth Happens on Its Own Terms

    Here’s the thing about ZZ plants: they’re notoriously slow growers. I’m talking glacial pace. For months, I saw zero progress. Nada. Zilch. It was beyond frustrating. I wanted results, proof that my less-than-stellar care was yielding something. Then, one day, a new shoot emerged. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

    That’s when it hit me: growth, both in plants and in life, happens on its own time. We can’t force it, we can’t rush it, we just need to be patient and trust the process. Sometimes, the most important growth happens beneath the surface, invisible but no less significant.

  • 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, folks. My thumbs have never been known for their verdant touch. In fact, I’m pretty sure I could kill a cactus in a desert. Okay, maybe not that bad, but you get the picture. Succulents wilted under my watch, spider plants surrendered their last legs, and don’t even get me started on that poor, innocent peace lily. Let’s just say it wasn’t very peaceful.

    So, imagine my surprise when, in the midst of a global pandemic and fueled by endless sourdough bread baking, I found myself inexplicably drawn to the plant section of the grocery store. Fast forward two years, and my apartment looks like a greenhouse exploded (in the best way possible, of course). Turns out, plant parenthood is kind of amazing. Who knew?

    1. Plants Are the Chillest Roommates Ever (Except for That One Drama Queen Fern)

    Forget noisy roommates who steal your food and leave dirty dishes in the sink. Plants are the epitome of low-maintenance living. They don’t care if you blast your 90s playlist at 2 am, they’ll never borrow your clothes without asking, and they’ll happily accept whatever scraps of sunlight your apartment offers.

    Sure, they might need a little water and the occasional pep talk (don’t judge, it works!), but trust me, their demands are far less demanding than even the most well-behaved cat or dog. Plus, they’ll never judge your questionable decorating choices. Except maybe that one dramatic fern I have. She’s a bit of a diva.

    2. Who Needs Therapy When You Can Talk to Your Plants? (They’re Great Listeners, I Swear)

    I know, I know, it sounds crazy. But hear me out. There’s something incredibly therapeutic about tending to your plants. It’s like a form of meditation, only instead of chanting “om,” you’re whispering sweet nothings to your monstera and admiring its new leaf.

    And the best part? Plants give the BEST advice. They just sit there, looking all wise and leafy, never interrupting or offering unsolicited opinions. They’re basically the silent, green therapists we all need in our lives.

    3. Prepare for the Ultimate Bragging Rights (And Maybe a Little Green Envy)

    Remember that feeling of accomplishment when you successfully assembled Ikea furniture without resorting to duct tape and prayers? That’s how you’ll feel every time your plant sprouts a new leaf, blooms a vibrant flower, or generally thrives under your care.

    Trust me, plant parenthood comes with serious bragging rights. Suddenly, you’ll find yourself snapping pictures of your leafy companions like a proud pet owner and subtly (or not so subtly) showcasing your green babies during Zoom calls. Be warned: you might also inspire a touch of envy among your less-green-thumbed friends.

    So, Are You Ready to Become a Plant Parent?

    Look, I get it. The thought of keeping another living thing alive can be intimidating, especially if you’ve got a history with plants like mine. But trust me, the rewards far outweigh the risks. Plus, with a little patience, a dash of love, and maybe a plant app or two, you, too, can experience the unexpected joys of being a plant parent. You might even surprise yourself.

    Now, if you’ll excuse me, I hear my fiddle leaf fig calling. Something about needing a pep talk and a Taylor Swift song…

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

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

    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Let’s be honest, I wasn’t always this “in tune” with nature. In fact, I used to be notorious for accidentally offing any houseplant that dared cross my threshold. My thumbs weren’t just black, they were practically wearing little black veils in mourning.

    But then, something magical happened. It started innocently enough, with a scraggly little succulent named Steve (don’t judge, I was new to this). And then, well, let’s just say things escalated quickly. My apartment is now practically a jungle, and I spend my weekends debating the merits of perlite versus vermicast with the cashier at the garden center.

    The Unexpected Perks of Plant Parenthood

    So, what changed? Why did I, a self-proclaimed plant assassin, suddenly embrace the leafy life? Here are a few of the surprising joys I discovered:

    1. Plants Are the Chillest Roommates Ever

    Forget noisy neighbors or passive-aggressive roommates. Plants are the epitome of chill. They don’t steal your food, hog the bathroom, or blast terrible music at 3 am. Plus, they come with built-in air purification! It’s a win-win.

    2. Witnessing Growth Is Surprisingly Therapeutic

    There’s something incredibly satisfying about nurturing another living thing (and no, I’m not talking about a sourdough starter, although that’s cool too). Seeing a new leaf unfurl or a tiny bud emerge fills you with a sense of accomplishment that rivals finishing a Netflix series in one sitting (okay, maybe not quite, but it’s up there!).

    3. Plants Are the Perfect Excuse for Everything

    Need to get out of a boring social obligation? “Oh, I’m so sorry, I promised my ferns I’d repot them this weekend.” Want to spruce up your living space without breaking the bank? Plants! Feeling stressed? Go water your plants; it’s basically meditation with a watering can. You’re welcome.

    The “Oops, I Almost Killed My Plant Again” Starter Pack

    Okay, okay, I’ll admit it. The journey to plant parenthood isn’t always smooth sailing. There will be times when you overwater, underwater, or accidentally recreate the Sahara Desert in your living room. But fear not, my fellow plant enthusiasts, for I have compiled a handy starter pack for those “oops” moments:

    1. The Moisture Meter: Because sticking your finger in the soil is so last season (and also, you might overwater).
    2. A Grow Light: For those of us who live in apartments that resemble dungeon cells (no judgment, I feel your pain).
    3. A Sense of Humor: Because sometimes, despite your best efforts, a plant will just decide it’s had enough. And that’s okay. We’ve all been there.

    Ready to Embrace Your Inner Plant Parent?

    So, there you have it. The unfiltered, slightly chaotic, and undeniably joyful world of plant parenthood. Are you ready to join the club?

  • Why I’m Convinced My Plant is Secretly Judging Me (and You)

    Why I’m Convinced My Plant is Secretly Judging Me (and You)




    Why I’m Convinced My Plant is Secretly Judging Me (and You)


    We all know that plants bring life to a room, purify the air, and look pretty darn stylish on a shelf. But have you ever stopped to consider that they might also be silently judging your every move?

    The Day My Succulent Sided-Eyed Me

    It all started last week. I was in my usual morning frenzy – hair resembling a bird’s nest, desperately searching for matching socks, spilling coffee on the counter (again!). As I scrambled to clean up the latest caffeine casualty, I caught a glimpse of my succulent, Gerald.

    Now, Gerald isn’t just any succulent. He’s a proud, spiky specimen with a stubborn refusal to grow in any direction except directly at me. As I met his gaze (or what I swear was a pointed glare), I realized something. Gerald didn’t look impressed. In fact, he looked downright judgmental.

    Gerald had seen enough. He was silently questioning my ability to adult, and honestly? I didn’t blame him.

    Signs Your Plant is Secretly Judging You

    Since my epiphany with Gerald, I’ve started noticing it everywhere. The way my peace lily seems to wilt dramatically after a particularly stressful phone call. The suspicious way my spider plant seems to “accidentally” drop a leaf whenever I attempt to sing along to the radio. They’re onto us, people!

    Don’t believe me? Here’s a list of irrefutable evidence that your plant is judging you too:

    • Sudden Drooping: Let’s be real, sometimes we say things we shouldn’t. But did you ever notice how your plant seems to dramatically wilt the moment you utter that particularly harsh piece of gossip? Coincidence? I think not.
    • Suspicious Growth Spurts: You know that feeling of accomplishment when you finally tackle that pile of laundry you’ve been ignoring for weeks? Notice how your plant seems to magically sprout a new leaf right after? They’re watching, and they approve (for now).
    • The Unwavering Stare: Let’s face it, plants are masters of the side-eye. That unblinking gaze seems innocent enough, but I’m convinced they’re analyzing our every move, silently judging our life choices one watering at a time.

    They’ve Seen Things, Man

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant




    My Brown Thumb Turns Green: Embracing the Houseplant Life

    Let’s be honest, my thumbs have a history of being less than green. More like a delightful shade of brown, actually. I’ve killed cacti with neglect, drowned succulents with affection, and don’t even get me started on that poor peace lily. So, imagine my surprise when a friend, bless her soul, gifted me with—you guessed it—another houseplant.

    “It’s a ZZ plant,” she chirped, “practically indestructible!” Famous last words, I thought, eyeing the unsuspecting green creature with a mixture of hope and trepidation. Little did I know, this plant wasn’t just about to survive under my care, it was about to teach me a thing or two about life itself.

    Houseplant Resilience: It’s More Than Just a Buzzword

    The first thing that struck me about my ZZ plant, affectionately dubbed “Zeke,” was his resilience. I forgot to water him for a week? No problem, Zeke hardly seemed to notice. Stuck him in a dimly lit corner because, well, interior design isn’t my forte? Zeke took it in stride, growing happily even without the spotlight.

    This got me thinking. How often do we, as humans, wilt at the first sign of difficulty? Do we forget that we, too, are capable of enduring, adapting, and thriving even in less-than-ideal circumstances? Zeke, in his quiet, leafy way, reminded me that resilience isn’t just a buzzword, it’s a choice. A choice we can make every single day.

    Lesson #2: Cultivating Patience: A Houseplant’s Slow and Steady Growth

    Now, I’m a bit of an instant gratification kind of gal. I like my coffee strong, my internet faster, and my results yesterday. So, you can imagine my initial frustration when Zeke didn’t sprout new leaves every other day like some kind of botanical overachiever.

    But as the weeks turned into months, I began to appreciate Zeke’s slow and steady growth. He reminded me that real change, real growth, takes time. It’s not about overnight transformations, but about the small, consistent efforts we make day after day. It’s about trusting the process, even when we can’t see the immediate results.