Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: houseplants

  • 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 Less Brown

    Let’s be honest, I’m about as far from a “plant person” as you can get. My idea of gardening is choosing the least wilted lettuce 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 hid my internal panic.

    Little did I know, this leafy green roommate would soon become my unlikely life coach, teaching me valuable lessons I never saw coming (much like the time I forgot to water it for three weeks, but we don’t talk about that).

    Lesson #1: Plant Resilience Is More Than Just a Buzzword

    After a particularly scorching summer week (read: I forgot to close the blinds), I came home to my ZZ plant looking like it had just lost a fight with a hairdryer. Leaves drooped, stems wilted, it was a picture of plant despair. I was convinced this was the end.

    Yet, after a little TLC (and a desperate Google search on “how to revive a dying plant”), my little buddy bounced back. It was a powerful reminder that even after a major setback, a little resilience (and maybe some extra water) can go a long way. Turns out, the same applies to life’s curveballs, too.

  • Is My Houseplant Judging Me? A Deep Dive into Plant-Based Side Eye

    Is My Houseplant Judging Me? A Deep Dive into Plant-Based Side Eye




    The Time My Fiddle Leaf Fig Almost Called Me Out

    I swear it happened. I was about to indulge in my third consecutive night of takeout pizza (don’t judge, adulting is hard!) when I caught my fiddle leaf fig, Ferdinand, subtly shaking his…leaves? Branches? Whatever you call them. It was the kind of shake a disappointed parent gives when their child announces they’re dropping out of med school to pursue a career in mime artistry. Okay, maybe I was projecting, but the judgment felt real, people.

    Exhibit A: The Dramatic Wilt

    Ferdinand is a drama queen trapped in a leafy green body. Forget forgetting to water him for a day; a slight dip in humidity sends this guy into a tailspin of despair. His leaves droop lower than my motivation on a Monday morning, practically begging for a therapist and a glass of plant-based Pinot Grigio. And you know what the worst part is? I swear he perks up just a little too quickly after I water him, like he’s saying, “Oh, NOW you decide to pay attention to my needs?”

    Ferdinand magically transforms from a sulky teenager into a thriving botanical masterpiece. New leaves unfurl overnight, his stems stand tall, and he practically glows with an “I woke up like this” confidence. Coincidence? I think not. It’s like he’s trying to impress my friends and whisper, “See, she’s not a complete disaster. Sometimes.”

    Ferdinand isn’t about to pen a tell-all exposé on my questionable life choices (though the thought is terrifyingly amusing), there’s something undeniably relatable about feeling silently judged by our houseplants. Maybe it’s their stoic silence, their unwavering presence in our messy lives, or maybe, just maybe, it’s the tiny voice in the back of our heads reminding us to eat a vegetable every now and then.

    So, tell me, dear readers, am I alone in this hilarious delusion, or have your leafy companions also mastered the art of silent judgment? 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


    We’ve all heard the saying, “Stop and smell the roses.” But what about, “Stop and appreciate the… uh… Ficus?” Yeah, doesn’t have the same ring to it. But hear me out! My journey to becoming a plant parent has been full of unexpected twists, turns, and, dare I say, wisdom.

    My Brown Thumb Redemption Arc

    I’ve never been particularly gifted in the plant department. In fact, I’m pretty sure I could kill a cactus in a desert. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a peace lily for my birthday, I accepted it with a smile and a silent prayer for the poor thing. I named him Percy (because, you know, peace lily… get it?), and I was determined to prove my brown thumb wrong.

    Percy looking like he was drowning in his pot. It was a whole thing.

    Lesson #1: Sometimes, Less is More (With Houseplants and Life)

    Through trial and error (mostly error, let’s be honest), I learned that Percy thrived on neglect. Okay, not neglect, but definitely a more hands-off approach than I was giving him. It turned out that my constant fussing and overwatering were doing more harm than good. Who knew?

    Turns out, this lesson translates to real life too. Sometimes, the best thing we can do for ourselves (and our loved ones) is to take a step back, give ourselves some space, and avoid drowning them in our anxieties. Deep, right? All thanks to Percy the Peace Lily.

    Lesson #2: Embracing the Subtle Growth of Your Houseplant (and Yourself)

    One day, I was about to give up on Percy altogether. He just wasn’t looking so hot. But then, I noticed something amazing. A tiny, little sprout emerging from the soil. It was small, almost insignificant, but it was there. Percy was growing!

  • 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, before I became a plant parent, I thought succulents were just trendy desk decor for people who had their lives together. My own attempts at nurturing greenery usually ended in crispy brown leaves and a silent apology to Mother Nature. But then, something changed. Maybe it was the pandemic, maybe it was my age (hello, late twenties!), but suddenly I found myself yearning for a little more life in my apartment—the kind that didn’t involve a roommate agreement or picking up after a furry friend.

    plant named Stan (yes, I name my plants, don’t judge!). And guess what? He thrived! Not only did Stan survive my initial newbie anxieties (was I watering him too much? Too little? Was that a weird brown spot?!), but he actually seemed to flourish under my care. That’s when I realized that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t cursed with a black thumb after all.

    The Unexpected Perks of Plant Parenthood

    Fast forward to now, and my apartment looks like a bohemian jungle, much to the amusement (and slight concern) of my landlord. But beyond the aesthetic upgrade, becoming a plant parent has brought a surprising amount of joy and unexpected benefits into my life:

    • Stress Relief: There’s something incredibly therapeutic about tending to your plants. Watering, repotting, even just misting their leaves—it’s all very grounding and helps me disconnect from the digital world and reconnect with nature (or at least a potted version of it).
    • Sense of Accomplishment: Remember that feeling of pride when you aced a test or finally mastered that complicated recipe? That’s me every time a new leaf unfurls or one of my plant babies blooms. It’s a small victory, but a victory nonetheless!
    • Conversation Starters: Let’s be real, plants make for way more interesting conversation starters than the weather. “Oh, this weird-looking beauty? It’s a Hoya Carnosa ‘Compacta,’ and apparently, it blooms with these amazing porcelain-like flowers!” (Cue impressed nods and inquiries about plant care tips).

    The Hilarity of Plant Parenthood

    Of course, being a plant parent isn’t always sunshine and blooming orchids. There are moments of sheer panic (“Why are you drooping?!”), questionable DIY solutions (eggshells as fertilizer, anyone?), and the occasional mourning period for a fallen leaf (RIP, you will be missed). But even the mishaps and struggles come with their own brand of humor. Like the time I accidentally overwatered my peace lily, only to discover a family of gnats had decided to throw a rave in its soil. Or the time I tried to propagate a spider plant and ended up with what looked like a tangled mess of green spaghetti.

  • Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Judging My Life Choices

    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Judging My Life Choices




    Is My Houseplant Judging My Life Choices? (Hilarious Proof!)

    From Green Thumb to Green Judge

    Remember those blissful days when you thought adopting a houseplant would bring peace and serenity? Fast forward to now, and instead of channeling your inner plant whisperer, you’re convinced your Monstera Deliciosa is silently judging your every move. Don’t worry, you’re not alone!

    plant for a few days (or maybe a week…or two). Life gets hectic! But while most plants show their thirst with a gentle wilt, some take it to another level.

    Like that time after a particularly grueling week fueled by takeout and procrastination, when your plant‘s leaves were practically sweeping the floor. It felt less like a cry for water and more like a passive-aggressive comment on your self-care routine.

    “Look at you,” they seem to sigh, “barely keeping yourself alive, let alone another living organism.”

    Exhibit B: The Case of the Curious Curl

    Now, you consider yourself a relatively positive person. But even you have your moments, right? And it’s during these moments – when you’re spiraling over a work deadline or lamenting your nonexistent dating life – that your plant decides to unleash its most potent weapon: The Leaf Curl.

    It’s subtle, almost imperceptible. But if you look closely (which, let’s be honest, you do now with alarming frequency), you’ll notice the leaves curling inwards ever so slightly, as if recoiling from the negativity.

  • The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent

    The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent

    Confessions of a Plant Whisperer (Wannabe)

    Let’s be honest, folks. We all have that one friend who seemingly breathes life into any leafy friend they adopt. Their ferns are lush, their succulents are plump, and their air plants…well, they haven’t floated away yet, which feels like a win in itself.

    I, on the other hand, have a history. A slightly embarrassing, brown-thumbed history. I once killed a cactus. A CACTUS! How does that even happen, you ask? I have no logical explanation, but I’m here to tell you, it happens.

    But here’s the thing: I persevered. I learned, I adapted, and I’ve even managed to keep a few green things alive (thriving might be a strong word, but we’re getting there). And through this journey, I’ve stumbled upon some unspoken rules of plant parenthood, rules no one tells you but everyone seems to know. So, buckle up, fellow plant enthusiasts, and let’s dive into the wonderfully weird world of unspoken plant parent etiquette.

    The Art of Plant Pep Talks & Other Ritualistic Behaviors

    Rule number one, and arguably the most important: never underestimate the power of a good pep talk. Yes, you read that right. Plants, like any other living being (allegedly), appreciate a good dose of encouragement.

    I’m not saying you need to launch into a Shakespearean monologue about the importance of photosynthesis (although, if that’s your thing, go for it!). But a simple “You got this, little buddy!” or a whispered “Please don’t die, I beg you” can go a long way.

    And while we’re on the topic of slightly eccentric behavior, let’s talk about rituals. We all have them. Maybe you water your plants with the leftover water from your morning coffee (guilty!), or perhaps you play them your favorite Spotify playlist. Whatever your jam, these little rituals become our way of connecting with our plant babies and, let’s be real, injecting a little magic into the mundane.

    A collection of various houseplants on a sunny windowsill, bathed in warm light.
  • Is My Houseplant Secretly Judging Me? (The Evidence is Compelling)

    Is My Houseplant Secretly Judging Me? (The Evidence is Compelling)



    Is My Houseplant Secretly Judging Me? (The Evidence is Compelling)

    The Side-Eye Started With a Spider Plant

    Let me preface this by saying I’m a reasonably responsible plant parent. I don’t overwater, I don’t underwater (much), and I even attempt to mimic the tropical humidity my plant children crave. But lately, my spider plant, Herbert, has been acting…off.

    It started subtly. A slight droop on days I slept in. A perky resurgence when I finally unpacked that box of “decorative gourds” I’d been meaning to display. But then things escalated.

    Exhibit A: The Case of the Dramatic Wilt

    Remember that “decorative gourd” display? Turns out, it was less “charming autumnal vignette” and more “breeding ground for fruit flies.” I battled those tiny winged demons for a solid week, a period during which Herbert staged what can only be described as a theatrical performance of despair.

    plant equivalent of “I haven’t slept in days.” The moment the last fruit fly met its demise? Herbert perked up like he’d just won the plant lottery. Coincidence? I think not.

    Exhibit B: The Suspicious Growth Spurt

    Now, I’m not saying I need validation from a houseplant, but I’d be lying if I said a little plant-based ego boost didn’t feel nice. Which brings me to Herbert’s suspicious growth spurt.

    It happened after I successfully propagated a new plant from a cutting. One day, Herbert was your average, slightly judgmental spider plant. The next? He was a verdant fountain of foliage, practically bursting with new growth and even – dare I say it – pride.

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

    Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Join My Green Thumb Club)

    Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (And Why You Should Join the Green Thumb Club)

    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent: My Story

    Okay, friends, let’s be real. For years, I was the ultimate plant assassin. I’m talking serial succulent slayer, fern flopper, you name it. If it was green and needed sunshine, it withered under my care. My apartment was a graveyard of drooping leaves and empty pots, a testament to my utter lack of a green thumb.

    Then, a miracle happened. I got gifted (another!) low-maintenance succulent, and something in me shifted. Maybe it was the pandemic boredom, or maybe it was the plant’s sheer will to survive despite my best efforts, but I decided to give this whole plant parenting thing another shot. And guess what? Not only did my little succulent thrive, but it sparked a passion in me I never knew existed!

    Plant Parenthood

    Fast forward to today, and my once barren apartment is now a veritable jungle. I’ve learned a thing or two about keeping plants alive (who knew!), but more importantly, I’ve discovered a whole host of unexpected joys that come with being a plant parent:

    1. Instant Mood Booster (No Therapist Required!)

    Remember that warm, fuzzy feeling you get when someone compliments your new haircut? That’s me, every morning, when I see my plant babies basking in the sunshine. Seriously, there’s something incredibly satisfying about watching a living thing thrive under your care. It’s like a mini therapy session, except way cheaper (and you get to keep the plant!).

    2. Unleash Your Inner Interior Designer

    Plants are like living, breathing works of art. Forget those generic posters and mass-produced wall hangings – a few strategically placed plants can instantly transform your space into a vibrant oasis. I’m talking cascading vines, sculptural succulents, even statement-making monsteras that scream, “I’m stylish AND I can keep a plant alive!”

  • Is My Houseplant Judging Me? A Deep Dive into the Mind of a Monstera

    Is My Houseplant Judging Me? A Deep Dive into the Mind of a Monstera

    Is My Houseplant Judging Me? A Deep Dive into the Mind of a Monstera

    We all know the feeling. You walk into your living room, expecting to be greeted by the lush greenery of your beloved houseplants, only to be met with… disappointment. Drooping leaves, a distinct lack of new growth, and maybe even a browning tip or two. It’s enough to make you question your entire existence as a plant parent.

    The Day My Green Thumb Turned Brown (Okay, Slightly Yellow)

    It all started innocently enough. I, like many others during the pandemic, decided to embrace the healing power of nature by becoming a certified Plant Lady. I envisioned a verdant paradise filled with thriving ferns, cascading pothos, and maybe even a majestic fiddle leaf fig (a girl can dream!).

    Things went swimmingly at first. I diligently researched the perfect care routine for each new leafy friend, showering them with filtered water and carefully calibrated sunlight. My once sparse apartment transformed into a miniature jungle, each new leaf unfurling a sense of accomplishment within me.

    plant care routine went out the window faster than you can say “overwatering.” That’s when I noticed it – the judgment. It started subtly, a slight droop here, a yellowing leaf there.

    Do Houseplants Give Side-Eye? Asking for a Friend…

    Now, I know what you’re thinking: “It’s just a plant!” And logically, I agree. But there’s something about the way my Monstera seems to wilt further every time I reach for a takeout menu instead of whipping up a nutritious salad. And don’t even get me started on the withering glare I get when I forget to water for a week (or two… okay, maybe three).

    It’s like my plant knows my deepest, darkest secrets: the late-night ice cream binges, the neglected workout routine, the fact that I haven’t changed out of my sweatpants in three days. And it’s judging me for it. Silently, but oh-so-effectively.

    The Case of the Disgruntled Cactus: A Cautionary Tale

    And before you think I’m losing my mind (maybe I am, but that’s beside the point), let me tell you about my friend Sarah. Sarah, a self-proclaimed “serial plant killer,” swore off greenery after a particularly traumatic incident involving a peace lily and a forgotten watering can. But then, she adopted a cactus. “Low maintenance,” she declared. “Impossible to kill.”

    Famous last words.

    Apparently, even cacti have their limits. This particular specimen, instead of thriving in its neglect, started leaning precariously to one side, as if attempting a dramatic escape from its pot.

  • 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 Brown Thumb Gets a Green Roommate

    We’ve all been there—staring longingly at those Pinterest-worthy apartments adorned with flourishing fiddle leaf figs and cascading pothos, thinking, “I could do that.” Well, I’m here to tell you, dear reader, that for some of us, plant parenthood is less of a whimsical dream and more of a comedic struggle.

    My journey started innocently enough. I adopted a peace lily named Percy (don’t judge, I’m a sucker for alliteration). He was supposed to be the low-maintenance gateway plant to my future urban jungle. However, Percy quickly disabused me of that notion. He drooped, he browned, he basically threw a leafy tantrum every time I looked at him the wrong way. I was convinced he hated me.

    Percy like my long-lost best friend. I showered him with attention, and by attention, I mean water. Lots and lots of water. I figured if a little H2O was good, a lot must be better, right? Wrong.

    Turns out, Percy wasn’t dramatic, just over-hydrated. Once I swapped my daily deluge for a more measured approach (read: actually checking the soil moisture), he perked up considerably. Who knew plants needed space to breathe? (Well, not literally breathe, but you get the point.) This taught me a valuable lesson about overdoing it. Sometimes the best approach is a gentler one, whether it’s with plants, relationships, or that extra slice of cheesecake.

    Lesson #2: Don’t Give Up on Your Roots, Even When Life Gets Rocky

    Just when I thought Percy and I had reached an understanding, tragedy struck. I accidentally knocked him off the windowsill, sending terracotta pot and poor Percy flying. I was horrified. Not only was my plant-parenting pride wounded, but Percy was now sporting a fractured pot and a severe lean.

    I was ready to toss in the (gardening) towel, but then I noticed something. Even though he was bruised and battered, Percy was still clinging on. So, I repotted him, gave him some extra TLC, and wouldn’t you know it, he bounced back stronger than ever. Seeing him thrive after a near-death experience reminded me that resilience is key. Even when we stumble and fall, it’s important to dust ourselves off and keep growing.