Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: overwatering

  • 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.

  • Why I’m Convinced My Plant Is Secretly Judging My Life Choices

    Why I’m Convinced My Plant Is Secretly Judging My Life Choices




    Why I’m Convinced My Plant Is Secretly Judging My Life Choices


    We all know that plants bring life into a room, but have you ever considered they might be absorbing a little too much of yours? I’m starting to suspect my beloved Monstera Deliciosa, Geoffrey, isn’t just a passive observer of my daily chaos. No, Geoffrey, I’m convinced, is judging me.

    The Time Geoffrey Almost Staged a Plant Rebellion

    It all started innocently. I’d brought Geoffrey home to brighten up my apartment, picturing Instagram-worthy moments of domestic bliss. For a while, things were great. Geoffrey thrived, unfurling new leaves with the exuberance of a puppy chasing butterflies. I, on the other hand, was thriving slightly less. Work was a monster (no pun intended), my dating life was a barren wasteland, and I’d perfected the art of surviving on takeout and dry cereal.

    Then, it happened. I woke up one morning to find Geoffrey wilting dramatically, his leaves drooping like a teenager forced to endure a family reunion. I panicked. Had I forgotten to water him? Was he getting enough light? Was this the plant equivalent of a hunger strike?

  • 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 not exactly known for my green thumb. In fact, I’m more likely to accidentally murder a succulent than keep it alive. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a houseplant for my birthday, my immediate thought was, “Oh no, not another one.” I imagined its inevitable demise, a sad pile of wilted leaves joining the ghosts of houseplants past.

    But something unexpected happened. This time, something clicked. Maybe it was the plant’s forgiving nature (seriously, it’s a ZZ plant, they practically thrive on neglect), or maybe I was just finally ready to pay attention. Whatever the reason, this little plant became my unlikely teacher, imparting wisdom I never knew I needed.

    plant-loving friend warned me about overwatering, so I thought, “I’ve got this!” But I completely forgot about the fertilizer.

    Fueled by the best of intentions (and maybe a touch of over-enthusiasm), I decided to give my plant a boost. I envisioned lush, abundant growth practically overnight. So, naturally, I gave it a double dose of fertilizer. What could go wrong, right?

    Well, let’s just say my plant did NOT appreciate my generosity. The leaves started to yellow, and I’m pretty sure it glared at me with silent judgment. After some frantic Googling and a sheepish call to my friend, I learned that patience is key when it comes to plant care (and, you know, life in general).

    Just like we can’t rush personal growth or achieve our goals overnight, plants need time to absorb nutrients and flourish. Sometimes, the best thing we can do is provide what they need and then step back and let them do their thing.

    Lesson #2: Embrace the Sunlight, Even on a Cloudy Day

    Now, anyone who’s met me knows I’m not exactly a morning person. I’m more of a “hit snooze nine times and then reluctantly crawl out of bed” kind of gal. My plant, on the other hand, is all about soaking up those early rays.

    Watching it stretch its leaves towards the morning sun reminded me that even when life feels a bit gloomy, there’s always a source of light if we’re willing to look for it. It might not be the bright, shining sun we expect, but even on the cloudiest of days, there’s still a glimmer of something good to be found.

  • 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 Turns Green (Sort Of)

    Let’s be honest, my thumbs have historically resembled more of a barren wasteland than a lush garden. I’m that person who could kill a cactus with a single, well-intentioned glance. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a houseplant – a supposedly “unkillable” ZZ plant – I accepted with a healthy dose of skepticism and a silent prayer for the poor thing.

    Little did I know, this plant, which I creatively christened “Zephyr,” would become my unlikely life coach, teaching me valuable lessons through its silent, leafy existence. Who knew such wisdom could sprout from a terracotta pot?

    Lesson #1: Patience is More Than a Virtue, It’s a Watering Schedule

    My first blunder? Overwatering. I showered Zephyr with affection (and probably enough water to last a month) on a daily basis. I mean, water equals life, right? Wrong! Turns out, even low-maintenance plants have their limits. Zephyr started to droop, its once-vibrant leaves turning a sickly shade of yellow.

    Zephyr with love (and H2O) every five minutes.

    Lesson #2: Even in Dark Corners, Growth is Possible

    Life got busy. I moved apartments, started a new job, and Zephyr, well, let’s just say he wasn’t exactly top of mind. I relegated him to a dark corner, my guilt growing with every passing week. When I finally remembered my neglected friend, I was sure I’d find a withered husk.

    To my utter astonishment, Zephyr was thriving! Not only had he survived my neglect, he’d sprouted new growth, reaching towards the sliver of sunlight peeking through the blinds.

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

    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me




    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me

    The Side-Eye from My Fiddle Leaf Fig

    It all started with a dramatic wilting episode. I had just returned from a weekend getaway, and there she was, my majestic fiddle leaf fig, slumped over like a disappointed duchess. “Oh, come on, Fiona,” I sighed, misting her leaves with a mixture of water and guilt. “It was just two days!” But Fiona remained unconvinced. Her silence, I swear, spoke volumes.

    That’s when it hit me: Fiona is judging me. And frankly, she has every right to.

    Plant: A Case Study

    Fiona isn’t the only one. My spider plant, Bruce, is a whole other story. Bruce thrives on neglect. I’m talking weeks without watering, accidental root-bound situations – you name it, he loves it. It’s as if he’s showing off, saying, “Look at me, I don’t need your constant attention!” Meanwhile, Fiona dramatically sheds a leaf if I look at her the wrong way.

    It’s gotten to the point where I analyze their every move:

    • New Growth: Am I being praised for my (slightly) improved plant parenting skills?
    • Drooping Leaves: Is this passive-aggressive disapproval of my takeout habit?
    • Suspicious Leaning: Are they plotting against me? (Okay, maybe I’m overthinking this one.)

    Plant Parenthood and the Silent Treatment

    What really gets me is their silent treatment. They can’t yell, they can’t complain, but they sure know how to make their feelings known through a strategically placed brown leaf or a mysteriously stunted stem. It’s like they’re saying, “We see your dusty shelves and your neglected watering can, and we’re not impressed.”

    And the worst part? They’re probably right.

  • 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 have you ever been stopped dead in your tracks by a droopy fern whispering profound life lessons? Okay, maybe not whispering. More like silently judging with its one brown frond. But the message was clear: even the smallest, quietest beings can teach us a thing or two about life, resilience, and the importance of good drainage.

    From Black Thumb to Accidental Plant Parent

    I’ve never been particularly gifted in the plant department. In fact, I’ve managed to kill succulents, those adorable little emblems of low-maintenance greenery. So when my well-intentioned friend gifted me a fern, I accepted with feigned enthusiasm and a mental note to Google “how not to kill a fern.”

    Initially, I treated it like a fragile museum artifact—overwatering, over-misting, and generally overthinking its every need. The result? A wilted, sorry excuse for a houseplant that looked like it had lost a fight with a hairdryer.

    Lesson #1: Sometimes, Less is More (And Why Drainage is Crucial for Houseplants)

    Just when I was about to add “fern murderer” to my list of questionable talents, I stumbled upon a plant blog (yes, they exist, and they’re strangely fascinating). It turns out, I was loving my fern to death. The blog emphasized the importance of well-draining soil and allowing the soil to dry out between waterings. Who knew?

    I repotted my fern with fresh soil and a lighter hand on the watering can. To my surprise, it perked up almost immediately. The experience taught me that sometimes, the best approach is a gentler one. Whether in plant care or life, there’s a delicate balance between nurturing and suffocating.

    Lesson #2: Resilience: It’s Not Just a Buzzword

    Life, as we all know, throws curveballs. And sometimes, those curveballs hit your unsuspecting houseplants. One particularly brutal summer, I left my fern on the balcony, forgetting about the afternoon sun’s brutal intensity. You can guess what happened next.

    I was devastated. I thought I had finally broken my plant’s spirit. But then, a funny thing happened. After some much-needed TLC (and a stern talking-to about the dangers of direct sunlight), new growth began to emerge. The fern, despite my best (or worst) efforts, was determined to thrive.

    It was a powerful reminder that even after setbacks and near-death experiences, there’s always the potential for regrowth. We all have that inner resilience, the ability to bounce back from adversity, even when we feel like we’ve been scorched to a crisp.

    What Have Your Plants Taught You?

    My journey from reluctant plant owner to accidental plant enthusiast has been filled with unexpected twists and turns. My fern, with its silent resilience and surprising hardiness, has taught me more about life than I ever anticipated. So, tell me, dear readers, what have your plants taught you about life, resilience, or the dangers of overwatering? 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






    From Brown Thumb to Budding Botanist: My Houseplant Journey

    Let’s be honest, I’m about as far from a “plant person” as you can get. My idea of caring for greenery involved occasionally remembering to pour the leftover dregs of my coffee into a pot. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a perfectly perky peace lily, I accepted it with a smile and a silent prayer for its survival.

    Little did I know, this seemingly innocent houseplant was about to become my unlikely life coach, teaching me valuable (and hilarious) lessons about patience, resilience, and the importance of paying attention.

    lily‘s survival? Yeah, it didn’t go so well…at first. Within a week, its vibrant green leaves had drooped to a pathetic, wilted mess. Panicked, I did what any self-respecting millennial would do: I googled it.

    Turns out, I was guilty of the cardinal sin of plant parenthood – overwatering! I’d practically drowned the poor thing in my misguided attempts to show it love.

    The solution? Tough love. I had to hold back on the watering, let the soil dry out completely, and trust that the lily was stronger than it looked. And guess what? It worked! Slowly but surely, it perked back up, a testament to the power of tough love (and proper drainage).

    Lesson #2: Patience and Grace: The Secret Ingredients to Growth

    Once my peace lily had recovered from its near-drowning experience, I was eager to see some serious growth. I envisioned lush, overflowing foliage, a botanical masterpiece worthy of envy from even the most seasoned plant whisperer.

    But life, much like my houseplant, had other plans.

    The growth was slow, almost imperceptible at times. It took weeks for a new leaf to unfurl, and even then, it wasn’t exactly the Instagram-worthy spectacle I’d imagined. There were times when I felt like giving up, convinced that I was failing as a plant parent.

    However, as I continued to care for my little green companion, I realized that growth, whether in a plant or in life, takes time and a whole lot of grace. It’s not always linear or glamorous, but each small step forward is a victory worth celebrating.

  • 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 Greener (Slightly)

    Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly known for my green thumb. In fact, I’m pretty sure my presence actually makes plants wilt. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a peace lily, I accepted it with a smile and a silent prayer. “Don’t worry,” I whispered to the unsuspecting plant, “I’ll try my best not to kill you.”

    Little did I know, this seemingly innocent houseplant would soon become my unlikely life coach, teaching me valuable lessons about resilience, patience, and the importance of a little sunshine (both literally and figuratively).

    Lesson 1: Bouncing Back from Wilting

    My journey with Lily (yes, I named her, don’t judge) started out rocky, to say the least. Within weeks, her vibrant green leaves had transformed into droopy, yellowing versions of their former selves. I was devastated. Had I already managed to kill the poor thing?

    Lily. Like, significantly overwatering. Who knew plants could be so dramatic? Thankfully, after some emergency plant surgery (read: repotting and a stern talking-to about personal space), Lily made a miraculous recovery. She taught me that even when we feel wilted and defeated, with a little care and attention, we can bounce back stronger than before.

    Lesson 2: Patience and Growth in Life (and Fertilizer)

    Once I’d mastered the art of not drowning Lily, I eagerly awaited her triumphant return to her former glory. But progress was slow. Like, really slow. I’d stare at her for hours, willing her to sprout new leaves, but to no avail. It was frustrating, to say the least. Wasn’t I doing everything right?

    That’s when I learned that growth, much like life, takes time. You can’t rush the process. Sometimes, you just have to be patient, trust the journey, and maybe invest in some high-quality fertilizer. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, Lily rewarded my patience with a brand new leaf. It was small, but it was a start. And it taught me that the most rewarding things in life are often worth waiting for.

    Lesson 3: Finding Your Sunshine

    As Lily continued to grow (slowly but surely!), I noticed she seemed particularly fond of the sunbeams that flooded my living room each morning. She’d actually lean towards the light, soaking it up with what I can only describe as pure plant joy. It was then I realized that I, too, am a sucker for a bit of sunshine, both literally and figuratively.

  • Is My Houseplant Silently Judging My Life Choices? (A Very Serious Investigation)

    Is My Houseplant Silently Judging My Life Choices? (A Very Serious Investigation)




    Is My Houseplant Silently Judging My Life Choices? (A Very Serious Investigation)


    Okay, hear me out. I know it sounds crazy, but I’m starting to think Beatrice, my prize-winning peace lily, is judging me. And not just a little side-eye judgment – I’m talking full-on, disapproving-aunt-at-Thanksgiving levels of judgment.

    The Case of the Wilting Leaves (and My Crumbling Life)

    It all started innocently enough. I’d been neglecting Beatrice a tad – okay, maybe more than a tad. Life got busy, deadlines loomed, and watering my plant slipped my mind (along with basic hygiene and the concept of a balanced meal). One morning, I stumbled past Beatrice, bleary-eyed and fueled by coffee, only to find her usually perky leaves drooping like a sad, green fountain.

    Beatrice!” I cried, rushing to give her a generous shower in the sink. “Forgive me?” As I preened her neglected leaves, I swear I saw a judgmental glint in the way they slowly unfurled. That’s when the paranoia set in.

    Exhibit B: My Houseplant’s Suspicious Growth Spurt

    Now, I’m not one to brag (okay, maybe a little), but I am not known for my green thumb. My thumbs are more of the “accidentally-kills-cacti” variety. So, imagine my surprise when, after the Great Wilting Incident of 2023, Beatrice took off like a rocket. New leaves unfurled with alarming speed, each one seemingly greener and glossier than the last. She was thriving…while I was barely surviving on instant ramen and the dregs of ambition.

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

    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me



    The Day the Leaves Turned on Me

    It all started innocently enough. I, like many during the dark days of 2020, decided to become a Plant Parent™. I envisioned a sun-drenched living room, overflowing with lush greenery, where I, a domestic goddess, gracefully watered my leafy companions. Cut to 2023, and let’s just say reality didn’t quite stick to the script.

    Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t completely descended into plant-killer territory (yet). But there’s a certain…energy coming from Herbert (yes, I named him, don’t judge). It’s like ever since I forgot to water him for two weeks straight (I swear it was a stressful time!), he’s been harboring some serious resentment.

    plant owner?”

    The worst part? It works every time. I see his pathetic display, immediately drown him in guilt-water, and apologize profusely. Herbert, of course, remains stoic, leaves slowly perking up as if to say, “This is the bare minimum you could do, Brenda.” (He doesn’t know my name, but I’m pretty sure he’s figured it out by now).

    Is My Houseplant Giving Me the Side-Eye?

    Exhibit B: The Side-Eye. Yes, you read that right. Herbert has perfected the art of the leafy side-eye. It happens whenever I’m doing something remotely questionable, like ordering takeout for the third time this week or attempting (and failing) to follow a yoga tutorial. It’s a subtle shift of the leaves, a barely perceptible tilt towards the window, as if he’s longing for the company of more responsible plant owners.