Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: indoor gardening

  • 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 gifted a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and you vow to keep them alive for longer than a week (the struggle is real, people). But then, amongst the lilies and carnations, you spot it… the dreaded “bonus plant.” You know, the one they sneak in there, disguised as a harmless addition, but it’s secretly judging your every horticultural move?

    Operation: Don’t Kill the Plant

    That’s how I ended up with Herbert. Yes, I named him. I figured if I gave him a personality, I’d be more inclined to keep him alive. Herbert, a sprightly little peace lily, was thrust upon me by a well-meaning friend at a going-away party. “He’s low-maintenance!” she’d chirped, shoving a plastic pot into my hands as I juggled a plate of nachos and a farewell margarita.

    Now, I’m not known for my green thumb. In fact, my thumbs are more of a “concrete gray” when it comes to plants. But Herbert, bless his leafy heart, was determined to teach me a thing or two about life (and maybe even about keeping things alive).

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

    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me




    Are My Plants Judging Me? The Hilarious Reality of Plant Parent Paranoia


    The Side-Eye From a (Very) Dramatic Spider Plant

    It all started with a dramatic wilting. I’m talking theatrical, head-in-hands, Shakespearean levels of plant despair. My usually chipper spider plant, which I’d affectionately named Gerald, looked like I’d just canceled our beach vacation.

    “Okay, drama queen,” I muttered, grabbing my watering can. “Don’t tell me you need water again?”

    As I watered Gerald, I swear I felt his…disapproval. Like he was thinking, “Took you long enough, peasant.” From then on, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Gerald was judging my every move.

    plant equivalent of someone binge-watching reality TV in their pajamas.

    Then, my mother-in-law came to visit.

    Now, my mother-in-law is lovely. She really is. But let’s just say we have…differing opinions on houseplant care. She believes in a “more is more” approach to watering, while I’m a cautious optimist who’d rather underwater than overwater (sorry, Gerald!).

    So, imagine my surprise when Beatrice suddenly sprouted a new leaf during my mother-in-law’s visit. And not just any leaf – this thing was practically the size of Texas! It was almost as if Beatrice was showing off, whispering, “See? This is what happens when I’m properly cared for!”

    Coincidence? I think not.

    The Silent Treatment and Other Passive-Aggressive Plant Behaviors

    Since then, I’ve noticed a pattern of passive-aggressive behavior from my houseplants. A few highlights:

    • My cactus, Steve, who’s usually quite prickly (pun intended), suddenly bloomed the day after I finished cleaning the entire apartment.
    • My succulent collection, which I swear rearranges itself when I’m not looking, seems to thrive when I’m feeling stressed. It’s like they’re mocking my inability to relax.
    • And don’t even get me started on the silent treatment. One wrong move – say, forgetting to mist my ferns – and it’s radio silence from the entire plant gang.
  • 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 Little Green Guru

    Okay, let’s be real, I’m about as far from a “plant person” as you can get. I’m the queen of forgetting to water, overwatering, and generally neglecting anything green and leafy. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a houseplant, I accepted with a smile and a silent prayer for the poor thing’s survival.

    I named him Percy (because why not?), found a sunny spot on my windowsill, and promptly… forgot about him. For weeks. I know, I know, terrible plant mom alert! But then, something unexpected happened. Percy, despite my best efforts to the contrary, thrived!

    Percy‘s ability to bounce back from my neglect was nothing short of miraculous. He went through phases of drooping, browning, and looking generally miserable. But each time, I’d remember my green companion (usually thanks to a gentle, “Um, isn’t that plant looking a little thirsty?” from my roommate) and give him a good watering.

    And guess what? He’d perk right back up! It was like he was saying, “No worries, friend! We all have our off days. A little H2O and I’m good to go!” Percy taught me that resilience isn’t about never falling down; it’s about having the strength to get back up, dust yourself off, and keep growing.

    Lesson #2: Sometimes, Less is More

    As I witnessed Percy’s resilience firsthand, I made a conscious effort to be a better plant parent. I’m talking research, people! I learned about proper watering techniques, the importance of drainage, and the magic of fertilizer. Armed with this newfound knowledge, I went from neglectful plant mom to, dare I say, a little overzealous.

    Cue the overwatering. Poor Percy, he couldn’t catch a break! It turns out, even with the best intentions, you can have too much of a good thing. Just like in life, constantly showering something (or someone) with attention and affection can be suffocating. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is step back, give them space to breathe, and let them flourish at their own pace.

  • 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 at the grocery store, minding your own business, when suddenly, you lock eyes. It’s not a celebrity, not a long-lost friend, but something… greener. Leafier. Maybe even a little bit… root-bound? Yes, my friends, I’m talking about the siren song of the discounted houseplant.

    How a Sad Little Fern Became My Life Coach

    My own journey into the unexpected world of plant-based wisdom began with a fern named Ferdinand. Now, I’m no botanist, but even I could tell Ferdinand had seen better days. He was wilting faster than my enthusiasm for doing the dishes, and yet, something about his droopy fronds called to me. “I can save him,” I thought, completely overestimating my nurturing abilities and conveniently forgetting my history of accidental plant homicide.

    Life Lessons According to Ferdinand, and trust me, this fern had a lot to say (metaphorically, of course, because, well, plants).

    Lesson #1: Life Lessons From a Fern: You Need Sunshine and Consistency

    Turns out, leaving Ferdinand in a dark corner and forgetting to water him for a week wasn’t the recipe for success I thought it would be. Who knew? (Don’t judge, I blame my plant-killing past). Ferdinand, bless his leafy heart, taught me the importance of consistency, not just in plant care, but in life. Just like we need sunshine, water, and good soil to thrive, we also need to nourish ourselves with healthy habits, positive relationships, and meaningful pursuits.

    Lesson #2: Just Like Plants, Growth Isn’t Always Obvious

    For weeks, it seemed like Ferdinand was stuck in a perpetual state of “meh.” No dramatic wilting, but no glorious growth spurts either. I was starting to lose hope, questioning my abilities as a plant parent (again). But then, one day, a tiny green shoot emerged, unfurling with the audacity of a seasoned yogi nailing a handstand. It was a small victory, easily missed if I wasn’t paying attention. Ferdinand, in his quiet, persistent way, reminded me that growth isn’t always linear or Instagram-worthy. Sometimes, the most significant changes happen beneath the surface, slowly but surely, until one day, BAM! Tiny fern frond handstand.

  • The Ultimate Guide to Building a Thriving Indoor Herb Garden

    The Ultimate Guide to Building a Thriving Indoor Herb Garden






    Introduction

    Imagine snipping fresh basil for your pasta sauce or adding fragrant mint to your evening tea, all from the comfort of your kitchen! Indoor herb gardening brings the joy of fresh, homegrown flavor into your home, no matter the season. It’s easier than you might think, even if you have limited space or experience. This comprehensive guide will equip you with everything you need to know to cultivate a thriving indoor herb garden.

    Choosing the Right Herbs for Your Indoor Garden

    Not all herbs thrive equally well indoors. Selecting the right varieties is crucial for success. Here are some popular choices known for their adaptability to indoor environments:

    • Basil: A culinary staple, basil loves warmth and plenty of sunlight.
    • Chives: These easy-to-grow herbs tolerate some shade and provide a mild onion flavor.
    • Mint: A vigorous grower, mint prefers partial shade and consistently moist soil. (Tip: Plant mint in a separate container to prevent it from overtaking other herbs.)
    • Oregano: This drought-tolerant herb thrives in sunny locations and adds depth to Mediterranean dishes.
    • Parsley: Rich in vitamins, parsley prefers bright, indirect light and well-drained soil.
    • Rosemary: This aromatic herb enjoys warm temperatures and good air circulation.
    • Thyme: Another sun-loving herb, thyme is relatively low-maintenance and adds a savory touch to various cuisines.

    Creating the Perfect Environment for Your Indoor Herb Garden

    Herbs need the right environment to flourish. Consider these key factors:

    Light: The Key to Healthy Herb Growth

    Most herbs need at least 6 hours of sunlight daily.

    • Place your herb garden near a south-facing window for optimal natural light.
    • If natural light is limited, supplement with artificial grow lights. LED grow lights are energy-efficient and provide the necessary light spectrum for plant growth.
    A close-up shot of hands harvesting fresh herbs from an indoor garden.
  • My Apartment Jungle: Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Should Join the Club!)

    My Apartment Jungle: Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Should Join the Club!)



    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Let’s be honest, folks. I used to be a certified plant killer. My apartment housed a graveyard of neglected succulents and tragically thirsty ferns. I swore off plant parenthood, convinced I lacked the magical touch. But then, something changed. Maybe it was the pandemic-induced desire for life (any life!) in my tiny apartment, or maybe it was the allure of those perfectly curated Instagram jungles. Whatever it was, I decided to give plants another shot.

    Fast forward to today, and my apartment is practically bursting at the seams with greenery. I’ve got towering monsteras vying for sunlight, sassy snake plants judging my every move, and even a peace lily that blooms more often than my social life!

    plant parenthood, my friends, comes with a whole host of unexpected joys.

    Benefits of Houseplants: 3 Reasons You Should Become a Plant Parent

    1. Plants Are the Chillest Roommates (Except When They’re Dramatic)

    Unlike my former human roommates (looking at you, Brenda, who never did the dishes!), plants are incredibly low-maintenance. They don’t hog the bathroom, steal your food, or complain about your questionable taste in reality TV. They’re perfectly content to bask in the sunlight, sip on some water, and occasionally throw you a new leaf or flower as a thank you.

    Of course, like all roommates, plants have their moments. There will be times when your prized fiddle leaf fig decides to throw a dramatic tantrum, shedding leaves like it’s auditioning for a soap opera. But even these moments are strangely endearing. After all, who needs human drama when you can witness a plant passive-aggressively wilting?

    2. Who Needs Therapy When You Can Talk to Your Plants?

    Speaking of drama, let’s talk about the therapeutic benefits of plant parenthood. Did you know that talking to your plants can actually help them grow? Okay, maybe that’s debatable. But there’s something incredibly calming about tending to your green babies, gently wiping down their leaves, and whispering words of encouragement (or frustration, depending on their behavior).

    Plus, watching a plant thrive under your care is a huge confidence booster. Every new leaf unfurling feels like a personal victory. It’s like, “Hey, I did that! I kept something alive that wasn’t powered by batteries or fueled by takeout!”

  • Prickly Wisdom: The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Cactus

    Prickly Wisdom: The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Cactus

    My Desert Guru in a Tiny Pot

    Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly known for my green thumb. In fact, my houseplants tend to meet their demise with alarming regularity. So, why on earth I decided a cactus needed to be my roommate is still a mystery. Maybe it was the allure of low maintenance, or perhaps I was drawn to its prickly charm. Whatever the reason, there I was, staring at a miniature desert dweller sitting on my windowsill, completely unaware that this spiky little guy was about to school me in some serious life lessons.

    Lesson 1: Resilience is a Thorny Business

    Now, I’m a sucker for instant gratification. I want results, and I want them yesterday. But my cactus, oh, he was on island time. He grew at a pace that could only be described as glacial. I’m talking microscopic changes over months. It was like watching paint dry… in slow motion.

    But here’s the thing: he kept growing. Through scorching summers and chilly drafts, he stubbornly persisted, proving that real growth takes time. He taught me that even when progress feels invisible, even when we feel like giving up, resilience means showing up day after day, even if it’s just to sprout a new, tiny spike.

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

    The Day I Realized My Plant Was Judging My Life Choices

    We’ve all been there. You’re two glasses of wine deep, scrolling through pictures of your ex’s new significant other (who, let’s be honest, looks suspiciously like a younger, more successful version of you), when you catch a glimpse of your houseplant in the corner.

    And for a split second, you swear, it’s judging you.

    The Unforgiving Glare of a Fiddle Leaf Fig (and Other Plant-y Judgments)

    My personal journey into the secretly judgmental world of houseplants began, as most things in my life do, with a fiddle leaf fig. This wasn’t just any fiddle leaf fig, though. This was Ferdinand. He was majestic, temperamental, and came with more baggage than my last relationship.

    I’d heard the whispers, of course. Fiddle leaf figs are notoriously dramatic, prone to dropping leaves at the slightest change in atmosphere. But I, in all my infinite optimism (read: naiveté), believed Ferdinand and I were different. We were bonded, two souls connected by a shared love of…well, me keeping him alive.

    Turns out, Ferdinand wasn’t buying it. Every late night spent binge-watching reality TV instead of, you know, watering him, was reflected in a new brown spot on his leaves. Every hastily ordered takeout meal felt like a personal affront to his delicate sensibilities. He even seemed to wilt a little lower whenever I played my “Break-Up Anthems” playlist on repeat.

    Plant Whispering: Decoding the Silent Judgments

    It wasn’t just Ferdinand, either. My snake plant, Steve (I have a thing for naming my plants), was a master of passive-aggressive judgment. Forget to water him for a week? No problem, Steve wouldn’t complain…outwardly. But that subtle lean towards the door, as if contemplating a daring escape to a more responsible plant parent, spoke volumes.

    And then there was Beatrice, my peace lily, who took her role as the drama queen of the plant world very seriously. One whiff of cigarette smoke from my neighbor’s balcony and she was staging a full-blown theatrical production, complete with wilting leaves and dramatic drooping. It was like living with a tiny, green, overly-sensitive roommate.

    I started to notice patterns. The worse my life choices, the more my plants seemed to suffer. Late-night pizza binges were met with disapproving droops. Skipping workouts for Netflix marathons resulted in suspicious brown spots. And let’s not even talk about what happened when I accidentally matched with my ex on Tinder.

    Green Mirrors: Reflections on Plant Parenting and Self-Care

    Now, I’m not saying my plants are sentient beings plotting my demise (although, let’s be honest, the thought has crossed my mind). But there’s something to be said about the way our plant children seem to reflect our own well-being. Maybe, just maybe, they’re not judging us, but rather serving as little green mirrors, reflecting back at us the things we sometimes try to ignore.

    Or maybe I’m just a crazy plant lady overthinking things. What do you think? Share your own hilarious plant parenting 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


    My Thumb Is Not So Green

    Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly known for my nurturing nature. I’m more of a “forget to water myself” kind of person, let alone another living thing. So, when my well-intentioned friend gifted me a houseplant—a supposedly “easy to care for” peace lily—I accepted with a mix of skepticism and terror. I mean, I’d successfully killed a cactus once. A CACTUS!

    But this little plant, with its deep green leaves and surprisingly resilient disposition, ended up teaching me more than I could have ever imagined. Who knew such profound wisdom could sprout from a pot of soil?

    Plant Parents)

    My first lesson came in the form of a droopy, sad-looking plant. I’d overwatered it. In my enthusiasm to not be a plant murderer, I’d drowned the poor thing. Thankfully, after some frantic Googling and a whole lot of apologizing to the peace lily, I managed to revive it. It was a humbling experience, to say the least.

    Turns out, plants, like people, thrive on consistency, not sporadic bursts of attention. Who knew? (Okay, maybe everyone else, but I was clearly late to the plant-whispering party). Learning to be patient, to observe and respond to its subtle cues—a slightly wilted leaf, a drooping stem—was an exercise in mindfulness I didn’t know I needed.

    Growth Takes Time (and the Occasional Repotting)

    As the weeks turned into months, my little peace lily, much to my surprise, actually started to thrive. It sprouted new leaves, its roots grew strong, and it even graced me with a beautiful white bloom. I was ecstatic! But then, just as I was starting to think I’d graduated from Plant Killer to Plant Whisperer, it started to wilt again.

    Turns out, even with the best care, sometimes you need to shake things up a bit. My plant had simply outgrown its pot. It was time for a change, a chance to spread its roots and reach new heights.

    This, I realized, applied to my own life too. There were times when I needed to step outside my comfort zone, to embrace new challenges and opportunities for growth, even if it meant feeling a little uncomfortable at first. Just like my peace lily, I needed space to blossom.

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant






    My Thumb Is Not So Brown After All?

    I’ve never been particularly “good” with plants. In fact, I’m pretty sure I single-handedly kept several plant nurseries afloat with my repeat business. Let’s just say, my apartment resembled a plant graveyard, littered with the ghosts of ferns past. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a sprightly little ZZ plant, I accepted it with a mix of cautious optimism and impending doom. I named him Stanley, mostly because it felt appropriate for a plant I assumed wouldn’t live long enough to earn a real name. Little did I know, Stanley was about to teach me a whole lot more than just how to keep something green alive.

    Lesson #1: Patience, Young Padawan

    Now, I’m a bit of an instant gratification kind of gal. I like my coffee brewed quickly, my internet faster, and my results, well, immediate. Stanley, however, operates on Stanley-time. He takes his sweet time to sprout new growth, unfurling each new leaf with the deliberate grace of a sloth in a yoga class. At first, I’d hover over him like a worried parent, convinced his lack of lightning-fast progress meant I was doing something wrong. But as weeks turned into months, and Stanley continued to thrive (at his own pace, of course), I realized something profound: not everything in life needs to happen at warp speed. Sometimes, the most rewarding things take time, patience, and a whole lot of trust in the process.

    Stanley wasn’t immune to the occasional mishap. I’m talking accidental overwatering, a near-death experience thanks to a curious cat, and even a brief but terrifying run-in with a rogue ping pong ball. But here’s the thing: through it all, Stanley persevered. He bounced back from every setback stronger and more determined to thrive. He reminded me that resilience isn’t about avoiding challenges; it’s about facing them head-on, learning from them, and emerging on the other side, a little battered maybe, but ultimately better for the experience.

    Lesson #3: The Power of Simplicity

    I’m a bit of an over-giver, in all aspects of life. Need someone to organize your sock drawer? I’m your girl. Craving a five-course meal at 3 am? I’ve got you covered. So naturally, when it came to Stanley, I showered him with attention. I watered him religiously, fertilized him like there was no tomorrow, and even serenaded him with my questionable rendition of “Here Comes the Sun” (don’t judge). But then I learned something surprising: Stanley thrived on neglect. Well, not exactly neglect, but he definitely preferred a more hands-off approach. He taught me the power of simplicity, the beauty of letting go, and the importance of not smothering those we love, even with good intentions (sorry, Stanley!).