Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: indoor gardening

  • 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)

    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, folks. For the longest time, my thumbs were about as green as a ripe avocado… that’s been left in the back of the fridge for six months. My track record with plants was, shall we say, less than stellar. I’m talking wilting basil, drooping succulents, and a cactus that somehow managed to die of thirst (I still don’t know how).

    But then, something magical happened. Maybe it was the pandemic, maybe it was a sudden urge to nurture something other than my caffeine addiction, but I decided to give this whole plant thing another shot. And you know what? It’s been one of the most rewarding (and hilarious) experiences of my life.

    Plant Parenthood

    Now, I’m not saying I’m suddenly an expert botanist or anything. My apartment isn’t exactly a tropical rainforest (though my humidity-loving ferns might disagree). But along the way, I’ve discovered some unexpected joys of being a plant parent that go way beyond just having something green in your living room:

    1. Plants are the chillest roommates ever. Seriously, they don’t steal your food, hog the bathroom, or complain about your questionable taste in music. They’re also surprisingly low-maintenance. Water them occasionally, give them some sunlight, and they’ll reward you with their quiet, leafy presence.
    2. They’re a natural mood booster. There’s something incredibly therapeutic about tending to your plants, watching them grow, and maybe even having a little chat with them (don’t judge, we all do it). Studies have even shown that being around plants can reduce stress and boost your mood.
    3. They make you feel like an actual adult. Remember that feeling of accomplishment when you successfully assembled IKEA furniture? It’s kind of like that, but with more photosynthesis. Keeping a plant alive and thriving is basically a crash course in responsibility (and a subtle reminder to water yourself once in a while).

    Tales From the Plant Parent Trenches (aka My Hilarious Mishaps)

    Now, before you think this whole plant parenting thing is all sunshine and blooming roses (pun intended), let me share a few hilarious mishaps from my own journey:

    • The Great Gnat Invasion of 2022: Remember that time I accidentally overwatered my peace lily and ended up with a swarm of tiny, winged roommates? Let’s just say it involved a lot of sticky traps, a frantic Google search, and a newfound appreciation for dry soil.
    • The Case of the Leaning Tower of Monstera: My monstera deliciosa was thriving… a little too much. It started growing sideways, reaching for the sunlight like a desperate vine. Cue me frantically trying to build a makeshift moss pole out of chopsticks and twine. It wasn’t pretty, but hey, we improvised.
  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant


    succulent, I knew it was living on borrowed time.

    This wasn’t just any succulent, though. This one was tiny, a little green soldier in a plastic pot smaller than a coffee cup. I figured I’d give it a week before it joined the great compost heap in the sky.

    succulent could flourish, what else could I be wrong about?

    Lesson #1: Small Actions, Big Impact

    I’ll admit, my plant care routine was pretty basic. A splash of water every other week, a sunny spot on the windowsill – that’s it. Yet, these small, consistent actions made a world of difference. The succulent grew, proving that even the tiniest efforts, when done consistently, can have a huge impact.

    This realization spilled over into other areas of my life. I started applying the “small actions, big impact” principle to everything from writing (a paragraph a day adds up!) to fitness (hello, 10-minute workouts!). It was surprisingly effective and way less daunting than trying to overhaul my entire life overnight.

    Lesson #2: Sometimes, You Just Need a Change of Scenery

    One day, I noticed my trusty succulent was looking a little… droopy. I tried everything – more water, less water, even serenading it with my questionable rendition of “Here Comes the Sun.” Nothing worked. Then, it hit me: maybe it just needed a change.

    I moved the pot from the windowsill to a shelf across the room. And guess what? It perked right up! It turns out, even plants get stuck in a rut. Sometimes, a little change of environment is all it takes to thrive.

  • 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. Staring at a wall, idly scrolling, when suddenly… BAM! An ad pops up featuring a lush, vibrant houseplant practically begging, “Take me home! I’ll make you a better person!” Okay, maybe not in those exact words, but the subliminal message was clear: this plant held the key to unlocking a world of tranquility, productivity, and maybe even enlightenment.

    My Journey to Plant Parenthood: From Brown Thumb to Budding Botanist

    Now, I’m not known for my gardening prowess. In fact, my previous attempts at plant parenthood could best be described as “rapidly evolving compost experiments.” But something about this particular plant, a sprightly little ZZ plant named Zephyr, spoke to me. Perhaps it was the promise of low-maintenance companionship, or maybe it was the sheer audacity of believing I wouldn’t accidentally kill it. Whatever the reason, Zephyr came home with me, and so began my unexpected journey into the world of plant-based wisdom.

    Plant Care)

    My first lesson came in the form of, well, nothing much at all. You see, ZZ plants are notorious for their slow growth. I’m talking glacial pace here. For weeks, I hovered over Zephyr, scrutinizing every leaf for signs of progress. Was it taller? Fuller? Had it achieved sentience and was simply choosing not to reveal its profound thoughts to me? Spoiler alert: it hadn’t.

    But slowly, almost imperceptibly, Zephyr did grow. New shoots emerged, unfurling with a quiet grace that spoke volumes about the power of patience. I learned that sometimes, the most rewarding things in life take time to blossom. And that constantly poking and prodding a plant won’t make it grow any faster (who knew?).

    Lesson #2: Cultivating Resilience: How My ZZ Plant Taught Me to Bounce Back

    Of course, no plant-based life lesson would be complete without a near-death experience. In a moment of forgetfulness (read: sheer negligence), I managed to neglect Zephyr’s watering needs for… a while. Let’s just say things were looking a little droopy in Zephyr’s corner.

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

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

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

    Let’s be honest, we’ve all been there. Staring into the abyss of a messy living room, empty takeout containers judging you from the coffee table, when suddenly… you feel it. That unmistakable feeling of being watched. You slowly turn your head, and there it is: your usually placid Peace Lily, seemingly glaring at you with an air of quiet disapproval.

    When My Plant Parent Skills Were Called into Question

    It all started innocently enough. I was a proud plant parent, showering my leafy companions with love, water, and the occasional serenade (don’t judge, they seemed to like it!). But then, things started to change. It began with a subtle droop here, a yellowing leaf there. “Just a phase,” I told myself, misting furiously. But deep down, a seed of doubt had been planted (pun intended).

    Evidence is Clear: My Plants Are Giving Me the Side-Eye

    The signs were subtle at first, but soon, they became impossible to ignore. I’d come home late from a night out, only to be met with what I swear was a particularly withering stare from my Monstera. Did it sigh? I could have sworn I heard a sigh. And then there was the time I accidentally killed my cactus (RIP, Spike). My remaining succulents haven’t looked me directly in the…well, pot… since.

    Here’s a breakdown of the evidence, because even my paranoia needs structure:

    1. The Dramatic Leaf Drop: You know, the one that happens right after you’ve finished vacuuming. Coincidence? I think not.
    2. The Suspicious Wilting: Always timed perfectly to coincide with my most stressful deadlines and questionable life choices.
    3. The Unexplained Growth Spurts: Like, am I being mocked for my own lack of personal growth? It’s a thought.
  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant







    My Brown Thumb Gets Greener

    Let’s be honest, my thumbs have never been particularly green. In fact, I’m pretty sure they emit an aura of doom that can wilt even the most resilient cacti. So, when my well-intentioned friend gifted me a peace lily, I accepted it with a grimace disguised as gratitude. “Don’t worry,” I told her, “I’ll try my best.” Little did I know, this plant wouldn’t just survive, it would thrive, and in doing so, teach me some valuable life lessons along the way.

    Lesson #1: Tough Love and Plant Care

    My peace lily and I got off to a rocky start. I overwatered it, then underwatered it, then forgot about it entirely for a week. It’s safe to say my plant was living its best “dramatic wilting” life. Just when I was about to toss it (and my pride) in the compost bin, I stumbled upon a plant care article. Turns out, these resilient little guys actually prefer to dry out a bit between waterings. Who knew?

    Armed with this newfound knowledge, I adjusted my approach. I started paying attention to the subtle signs – drooping leaves meant it was thirsty, while firm, upright leaves indicated it was content. It was like learning a new language, one spoken in the quiet rustle of leaves and the gentle sigh of a thirsty root system.

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    My Little Green Guru

    Let’s be honest, my thumbs have never exactly been emerald green. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve managed to kill a cactus with kindness (RIP, Spike). So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a houseplant—“It’ll brighten up your space!” she chirped—I accepted it with the same enthusiasm I reserve for dentist appointments. Little did I know, this leafy green roommate would soon become my unlikely life coach.

    Leafy,” seemed content to just…exist. It wasn’t exactly thriving, but hey, at least it wasn’t a pile of brown mush like my previous attempts at plant parenthood. Then came the day Leafy decided to sprout a new leaf. This wasn’t just any leaf, mind you, this was a monstrous, gangly thing that shot out at an alarming angle. It looked like Leafy was trying to flag down a passing airplane.

    “Seriously?” I muttered, staring at the botanical anomaly. “You couldn’t have grown a nice, normal leaf like a normal plant?”

    But as the days passed, that awkward leaf unfurled, revealing itself to be the most magnificent, vibrant leaf on the entire plant. It was a stark reminder that growth is rarely linear or graceful. Sometimes, we have to embrace the awkward stages, the unexpected detours, and trust that something beautiful will bloom eventually.

    Lesson #2: The Importance of a Good Soak

    Now, I’m a big believer in routine. I like my coffee at 8:00 am, my yoga class at 6:00 pm, and my existential dread promptly at bedtime. So, naturally, I approached Leafy’s care with the same regimented precision. Every Sunday, like clockwork, I’d give it a little sprinkle of water.

    However, it turns out plants, unlike my carefully curated schedule, don’t always adhere to rigid timelines. After weeks of my meticulous mini-waterings, Leafy started to droop. Its leaves went limp, and it looked about as lively as a discarded feather duster. Panicked, I frantically Googled “droopy plant help ASAP!”

    The solution? A good, long soak. Apparently, those little sips weren’t cutting it. Sometimes, we need to ditch the surface-level approach and allow ourselves to be fully immersed in what nourishes us—whether that’s a long bath, a heart-to-heart with a friend, or a weekend spent pursuing a forgotten passion.

  • 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

    Okay, let’s be real. I used to be the grim reaper of greenery. Seriously, I could kill a cactus in a desert during a monsoon.

    plants another shot. And guess what? It wasn’t a total disaster! In fact, it’s been surprisingly…dare I say…joyful?

    The Unexpected Perks of Plant Parenthood

    Here’s the thing about plants: they’re like the low-maintenance roommates you always wished for. They won’t borrow your clothes without asking (looking at you, past roommates!), and they’re perfectly content with a simple routine. But the real surprise? The unexpected joys they bring!

    Instant Zen Masters

    There’s something incredibly therapeutic about tending to your plants. Watering, repotting, even just misting those leafy babies—it’s like meditation with a side of chlorophyll. Plus, studies show that being around plants can actually reduce stress levels. So, basically, my peace lily is my therapist now? Sign me up!

    Décor That Doesn’t Require Assembly

    Forget those frustrating IKEA instructions! Plants are like instant home décor that instantly brightens up your space. They add life, color, and texture—no hammer or Allen wrench required.

  • Why I Started Talking to Plants (and What Happened Next)

    Why I Started Talking to Plants (and What Happened Next)




    Why I Started Talking to Plants (and What Happened Next)

    The Day My Thumb Turned Green(ish)

    Let’s be honest, my history with houseplants was less than stellar. It usually went something like this: bring home beautiful fern, fern flourishes for approximately 48 hours, fern dramatically wilts like a Shakespearean actor playing dead. Repeat. You could practically hear a tiny plant ambulance siren every time I walked into a garden center.

    Then came the fateful day my well-meaning friend gifted me a succulent for my birthday. “It’s impossible to kill!” she assured me. Challenge accepted, universe. Determined to break the curse, I decided to try something radical: talking to it.

    Plant Whisperer

    Look, before you write me off as completely plant-crazy, hear me out. It started small. Just a casual “Good morning, sunshine!” while watering. But then it escalated. I found myself confiding in the succulent about my day, my work woes, even my questionable dating app choices.

    Surprisingly, it was…therapeutic? This little green dude didn’t judge, interrupt with unsolicited advice, or roll its nonexistent eyes at my terrible jokes. Plus, my apartment finally had someone else to listen to my rendition of “Bohemian Rhapsody” in the shower (the neighbors disagree, but that’s their problem).

    Benefits of Talking to Plants: Thriving Greenery and Mindfulness

    Now, I’m not saying talking to my plants gave them magical growth powers (though my succulent IS looking particularly plump these days…). But something shifted. I started paying closer attention. I noticed when the soil was dry, when a leaf looked droopy, when it was time to rotate the pot for optimal sunbathing.

    And you know what? My plants started thriving. My once-barren apartment transformed into a mini jungle, filled with happy, leafy friends. Turns out, all they needed was a little TLC and a listening ear (or, well, stem?).

  • 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 (Not So) Green Thumb: A Houseplant Journey

    Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly known for my nurturing abilities. I once managed to kill a cactus. A CACTUS. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a peace lily for my birthday, I accepted with a grimace disguised as gratitude. “It’s low-maintenance,” she assured me. Famous last words.

    Little did I know, this seemingly innocent plant would become my unlikely life coach, dishing out wisdom in the form of wilting leaves and surprising blooms. Who knew a houseplant could teach me so much about life, resilience, and the importance of a little TLC?

    Percy the Peace Lily (yes, I named it)?

    A frantic Google search later, I realized my mistake: Neglect. Turns out, even “low-maintenance” friends need a little love and attention. I started paying closer attention to Percy, noticing its subtle cues. Was it thirsty? Getting too much sun? Did it need a pep talk (don’t judge)?

    The experience was a wake-up call. Just like Percy, the people in my life, however independent, thrived on genuine connection and care. It was a reminder to put down my phone, be present, and appreciate the relationships that truly mattered.

    Lesson #2: Growth Isn’t Always Pretty (But It’s Always Worth Celebrating)

    Over time, Percy the Peace Lily and I found our groove. I learned its rhythm, anticipating its needs. And then, one day, it happened. A new leaf unfurled, a vibrant green beacon of growth. It wasn’t the most graceful process. There were awkward angles, a bit of stretching, and maybe even a few rips (okay, maybe I accidentally bumped it). But it was beautiful.

    Percy’s growth spurt was a powerful reminder that progress isn’t always linear or Instagram-worthy. Life, like growing a plant (or a human, for that matter), is messy and unpredictable. There will be setbacks, awkward phases, and moments where you feel like you’re stuck in the metaphorical pot. But through it all, there’s an inherent beauty in the journey, in the constant striving, reaching, and becoming.

  • Is My Houseplant Silently Judging My Life Choices? (The Answer Might Surprise You)

    Is My Houseplant Silently Judging My Life Choices? (The Answer Might Surprise You)



    Maybe you dropped your phone for the hundredth time that day, or burnt dinner… again. But have you ever gotten that feeling from your houseplant?

    My Fiddle-Leaf Fig Made Me Feel Judged (Really!)

    It all started innocently enough. I was sprawled on the couch, buried under a mountain of blankets, desperately trying to binge-watch my way through a rom-com marathon. Empty pizza boxes littered the coffee table (don’t judge, it was a tough week!), and my laundry hamper overflowed like a forgotten volcano. It was then that I noticed it. My beloved fiddle-leaf fig, Ferdinand, seemed… different.

    His usually perky leaves drooped slightly, and I could have sworn he was leaning away from the chaos. Was it my imagination, or did Ferdinand just give me the botanical equivalent of a disappointed sigh? From that moment on, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Ferdinand was judging my every move.

    Houseplant Was Judging Me: The Evidence

    Exhibit A: The Case of the Neglected Watering Can

    Remember how I mentioned it was a tough week? Well, apparently, Ferdinand took it personally. I walked into my living room one morning to find him looking particularly parched. His soil was bone dry, and his leaves were practically begging for a drink.

    Guilt washed over me. I quickly filled his watering can, muttering apologies as I gave him a much-needed drink. As the water quenched his thirst, I could have sworn I saw a single leaf perk up, as if to say, “It’s about time.” Okay, maybe I was projecting, but the guilt was real.

    Exhibit B: The Great Repotting Debacle

    Convinced that Ferdinand was trying to tell me something, I decided to become a better plant parent. I researched the perfect soil mixture, invested in a stylish new pot, and even downloaded a plant care app (yes, really). The repotting process, however, was less than graceful.

    Picture this: me, covered in dirt, desperately trying to untangle Ferdinand’s roots from his old pot. Let’s just say it wasn’t my most glamorous moment. As I finally managed to wrestle him into his new home, I noticed a few stray leaves scattered on the floor. Ferdinand, meanwhile, remained stoic, but I could practically hear him thinking, “Was all this really necessary?”