Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: overwatering plants

  • 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 picture-perfect apartment boasting a jungle of thriving houseplants. Suddenly, your own humble abode feels severely lacking in the greenery department. That’s how I ended up, one impulsive shopping trip later, with a majestic (or so I thought) fern gracing my windowsill. Little did I know, this fern would teach me more than just how to keep a plant alive.

    Lesson #1: Patience is a Virtue (and so is Google)

    My first attempt at plant parenthood can only be described as “overenthusiastic.” I watered my fern religiously, convinced that more H2O equaled more happiness. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. In fact, my poor fern started to droop, its once-vibrant fronds turning a sickly shade of yellow. Panic set in. Was I a plant murderer already?

    Cue frantic Googling. Turns out, ferns are a bit dramatic. They like their soil moist but not soggy, and overwatering is a one-way ticket to Root Rot City (population: my dying fern). I learned, through trial and error (mostly error), the delicate dance of watering, drainage, and the importance of proper plant care research. Who knew there was so much to know about keeping a fern alive?

    fern, I eagerly awaited its triumphant return to its former glory. Days turned into weeks, and while it was no longer on the verge of collapse, it wasn’t exactly thriving either. It seemed stuck, frozen in a state of mediocre greenness.

    A quick internet search revealed another plant-parenting pro tip: sometimes, you need to prune away the dead weight to make way for new growth. Armed with a pair of kitchen scissors (don’t judge), I hesitantly snipped away the brown, crispy fronds. It felt brutal, like giving the plant a bad haircut. But guess what? New growth sprouted, healthier and more vibrant than before. It was a powerful reminder that sometimes, letting go of the past is essential for future flourishing.

    Lesson #3: Celebrate Small Victories (Like New Fronds)

    Here’s the funny thing about plants: they don’t care about your grand plans or your need for instant gratification. They grow at their own pace, in their own time. But when they do finally flourish, it’s pure magic. Witnessing a new frond unfurl, a tiny bud bloom, it fills you with a sense of quiet accomplishment. It’s a reminder to appreciate the small victories, the subtle signs of progress, in both the plant world and in life.

  • The Surprisingly Deep Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant

    The Surprisingly Deep Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant




    The Surprisingly Deep Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant


    My Thumb Is More of a… Celery Stalk?

    Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly known for my green thumb. In fact, I’m pretty sure my houseplants tremble in fear when I approach with a watering can. It’s a tragic tale involving several deceased succulents, a droopy fern, and one very dramatic peace lily (R.I.P., Steve).

    So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a tiny, cheerful pot of what I think was an ivy (don’t judge!), I was skeptical. Could I actually keep this miniature life form alive? The odds weren’t exactly in my favor. Little did I know, this plant would do more than just survive; it would thrive. And in the process, it would teach me some unexpectedly profound lessons about life.

    Life

    As it turns out, keeping a plant alive isn’t rocket science. (Who knew?) My biggest mistake? Overwatering. I was basically drowning the poor thing in my misguided attempts to show it love.

    Once I learned to chill out on the H2O and let my little buddy soak up some rays by the window, it was like magic. New leaves unfurled, the stems grew stronger, and it basically transformed into a mini jungle before my very eyes.

    This got me thinking: how often do we do the same thing in our own lives? We overthink, overanalyze, and generally overcomplicate things that are actually quite simple. Sometimes, all we need is the metaphorical equivalent of sunshine and water— a little self-care, some positive energy, and the courage to let things grow at their own pace.

    Lesson #2: Finding Joy in the Small Things (Like Houseplants)

    Confession: I may have developed a bit of an emotional attachment to this plant. I catch myself talking to it (don’t judge!), celebrating its new growth, and feeling a ridiculous sense of pride when someone compliments its lushness.

    It’s amazing how much joy this tiny living thing brings into my life. It’s a reminder that happiness can be found in the simplest of things, even in the quiet moments of tending to something other than myself.

  • 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

    Okay, let’s be honest. I used to be the person who couldn’t keep a cactus alive. Seriously, those things practically water themselves! My apartment was a graveyard of neglected succulents and wilting ferns.

    But then something changed. Maybe it was the pandemic, maybe it was a quarter-life crisis, or maybe it was just that adorable little Monstera at the grocery store. Whatever it was, I took a chance, brought it home, and…didn’t kill it!

    That’s when I discovered the unexpected joys of being a plant parent.

  • 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(ish)

    Let’s be honest, I’m about as skilled at keeping plants alive as a goldfish is at winning a marathon. I’m the queen of accidental overwatering, the master of forgetting fertilizer, and my idea of “sunshine” for a plant involves leaving the blinds closed on a cloudy day. So, naturally, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a peace lily for my birthday, I accepted it with the enthusiasm of someone handed a ticking time bomb.

    “It’s low-maintenance,” she assured me. “Just water it when the soil is dry.”

    Famous last words.

    Peace Lily and You Need a Good Drink (of Water…and Self-Care)

    My peace lily, which I optimistically named Percy, started strong. It sat on my windowsill, soaking up the (meager) rays of sunshine, its leaves a vibrant green. But then, slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, Percy began to droop. His leaves, once proud and perky, now resembled sad, wilted lettuce. Panic set in.

    I did what any self-respecting plant killer would do: I consulted Google. After scrolling through countless articles on plant care (who knew there were so many?!), I stumbled upon a forum dedicated to the woes of peace lily owners. And that’s when it hit me: Percy was thirsty!

    I know, I know, groundbreaking, right? But in my defense, I was convinced I was overwatering him. Turns out, I was doing the opposite. I gave Percy a good soak, and within hours, he perked right up. It was like witnessing a botanical resurrection.

    This little episode got me thinking. How often do we, like my poor, parched peace lily, forget to give ourselves what we need? Whether it’s taking a break, setting boundaries, or simply allowing ourselves to rest, sometimes the answer to our problems is as simple as a good drink…of self-care.

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

    As the weeks turned into months, I settled into a rhythm with Percy. I learned to read his subtle cues—a slight droop meant he needed water, a yellowing leaf meant it was time for fertilizer. But the biggest lesson came when Percy decided it was time to grow.

    Now, when I say “grow,” I don’t mean he sprouted a few extra leaves and called it a day. No, Percy went all out. He sprouted new shoots in every direction, his roots threatening to burst out of his pot. It was chaotic, it was messy, and frankly, it was a little bit ugly.

  • Why I’m Convinced My Houseplants Are Secretly Judging Me

    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplants Are Secretly Judging Me



    We all know that plants respond to stimuli, right? Light, water, the occasional serenade of show tunes (just me?). But lately, I’ve started to suspect my leafy roommates are doing a little more than just photosynthesizing. They’re judging. Me. And honestly, who can blame them?

    The Dramatic Dieffenbachia and the Fiddle Leaf Fig

    It all started with Derek, my formerly thriving Dieffenbachia. One day he was the picture of plant perfection, the next he was wilting faster than my hopes and dreams after a bad Tinder date. I’m talking full-on dramatic swoon, leaves drooping like they hadn’t seen a drop of water in decades (it had been two days, max!).

    Now, I’ll admit, I’m not always the most attentive plant parent. I’m more of a “Whoops, forgot to water you for a week, but here’s a whole gallon to make up for it!” kind of gal. But Derek? Derek was different. He was thriving! Until, that is, I brought home that fiddle leaf fig everyone’s been raving about.

    Derek was clearly green with envy (pun intended). From then on, I swear I could feel his judgmental gaze every time I watered Fiona the Fiddle Leaf first. “Oh, so she’s the favorite now, is she?” his drooping leaves seemed to whisper. “Just wait until she sees what I do to your social media feed when you inevitably kill her with kindness.”

    The Silent Treatment: Passive-Aggressive Plant Behavior

    Derek isn’t the only one throwing shade (again, pun intended). My peace lily, Petunia, is a master of passive aggression. Forget the dramatic wilting – she goes straight for the silent treatment. Literally. This plant, known for its beautiful white blooms, has refused to flower since I accidentally left her outside during a freak hailstorm (it was one time, Petunia, get over it!).

    And then there’s Steve, my snake plant. Steve is the strong, silent type. He’s also incredibly low-maintenance, which I appreciate…most of the time. But sometimes, in the quiet of the night, I catch him shooting up a new leaf at an alarming rate. It’s like he’s saying, “See? I can thrive even with minimal effort. Step up your game.”

  • 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

    From Black Thumb to Budding Plant Parent

    Let’s be honest, my thumbs have a history of being less than green. Okay, they were practically charcoal black. I’d managed to kill cacti, for crying out loud! Plants just didn’t seem to thrive in my presence. So naturally, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a cheerful little ZZ plant, I accepted it with a mixture of hope and trepidation. “This one’s impossible to kill,” she’d assured me. Famous last words, I thought.

    plant, whom I affectionately named Zephyr, was about to school me in resilience. I promptly overwatered him, mistaking his stoic silence for thirst. I left him in a dark corner, thinking he wouldn’t mind the lack of sunlight. Zephyr, however, took it all in stride. He persevered through my well-intentioned but misguided attempts at care.

    Slowly, I began to understand his subtle cues. Drooping leaves meant he needed a drink, not a whole swimming pool in his pot. Yellowing leaves meant he craved a bit of sunshine, not the shadowy depths of my living room. Zephyr taught me that even when faced with challenges, bouncing back is possible, often stronger than before.

    Lesson #2: Patience – The Root of All Growth

    Now, I’m a notoriously impatient person. I want instant gratification, immediate results. Zephyr, however, operates on plant time. He takes his sweet time to sprout new growth. I’d check him every day, convinced that today would be the day a new leaf would magically unfurl. And every day, I’d be met with the same, steady green.

    But then, one day, it happened. A tiny, tightly furled leaf emerged, a testament to Zephyr’s steady, patient growth. He taught me that good things take time. That sometimes, the most rewarding experiences come from waiting, from trusting the process, and from embracing the journey.

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant



    My Brown Thumb Gets a Little Greener

    Let’s be honest, my thumbs have never been mistaken for those of a seasoned gardener. In fact, my plant-parenting track record was more of a graveyard of good intentions and crunchy brown leaves. So, when my friend gifted me a fern – a FERN – I accepted with a mix of hope and trepidation. This, my friends, was a test. Could I keep this delicate creature alive? Spoiler alert: I did, and in the process, I learned a thing or two about more than just watering schedules.

    fern, convinced it was thirsty, only to realize later that overwatering is a thing. (Who knew?) It was a classic case of “doing too much” – a pattern I’m unfortunately prone to in other aspects of life. The fern, in its quiet wisdom, taught me the art of observation and patience. Instead of rushing in with solutions, I learned to take a breath, assess the situation, and respond with a gentler touch. Turns out, sometimes the best thing you can do is just let things be.

    Lesson 2: Celebrate Small Wins (Like New Fern Fronds)

    Remember how I mentioned my history of plant-related casualties? Yeah, that made every new fern frond feel like a monumental victory. Seriously, I’m talking full-on happy dance, maybe even a little victory song. The fern, in its own subtle way, reminded me to celebrate the small wins – those tiny triumphs that often go unnoticed in the hustle of everyday life. A completed to-do list, a heartfelt conversation, a perfectly brewed cup of coffee – these are all moments worthy of a little internal high-five.

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned From a Houseplant

    My Descent into Plant Parenthood

    I’ve never been particularly gifted in the art of keeping things alive. Sure, I’ve managed to keep myself relatively fed and watered (most days), but anything beyond that was always a gamble. So naturally, when my well-intentioned friend gifted me a houseplant for my birthday, I accepted it with the same trepidation one might feel holding a ticking time bomb.

    “It’s a ZZ plant,” she’d chirped. “Practically indestructible!”

    Oswald, mostly because it seemed like a name that commanded respect, and promptly set about researching how not to kill him. Turns out, even “indestructible” plants have their limits. Who knew?

    Lesson #1: Patience Is a Virtue (and Essential for Plant Care)

    My first blunder as a plant parent? Overwatering. In my defense, all the plant care blogs made it sound like a life-or-death scenario. “Don’t let the soil dry out!” they screamed. So, I watered Oswald. And then I watered him some more. Just to be safe, you know?

    Spoiler alert: it wasn’t safe. Oswald started to droop, his once-perky leaves turning an alarming shade of yellow. Cue the frantic Googling and the realization that, much like humans, plants need space to breathe (or, in their case, photosynthesize). I learned that sometimes, the best thing you can do is…nothing. Just observe, wait, and let nature do its thing.

    Lesson #2: Embracing the Unexpected Nature of Growth

    After the Great Overwatering Incident of 2023, I decided to adopt a more hands-off approach with Oswald. I watered him sparingly, only when the soil was bone dry, and mostly just tried to stay out of his way. Imagine my surprise when, a few weeks later, I noticed a new shoot unfurling from the soil.

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant



    From Black Thumb to Budding Botanist (Well, Almost)

    Let’s be honest, my thumbs have always been more “charcoal” than “green.” I’m the person who could kill a cactus in a desert. So, naturally, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a houseplant – a delicate-looking fern, no less – I accepted it with a mixture of terror and feigned gratitude.

    fern would teach me more than just how to keep something alive. It would become my unlikely guru, imparting valuable life lessons I never expected.

    Lesson #1: Finding Balance: The Art of Tough Love (for Plants)

    My first mistake? Smothering the fern with attention (and water). I treated it like a fragile newborn, misting its leaves every hour and practically building a humidity dome around it. Unsurprisingly, it started to wilt.

    “It’s dying!” I wailed to my friend, convinced I’d committed plant homicide. She calmly explained that ferns actually thrive with a little less care. “Less is more,” she said. “Give it some space.”

    Hesitantly, I followed her advice. I cut back on the watering, moved the fern to a spot with less direct sunlight, and basically ignored it. And guess what? It perked right up! Turns out, sometimes giving something (or someone) a little space to breathe is the best thing you can do. Who knew?

    Lesson #2: Bouncing Back: My Fern’s Guide to Resilience

    Life, as we all know, happens. And sometimes, life throws shade…literally. One morning, I woke up to find my cat, Mittens, perched precariously on the windowsill, having used my poor fern as a launching pad. Leaves were scattered everywhere, branches were broken, and I was pretty sure I saw a tear roll down its…stem?

  • The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent

    The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent



    Plant Parent

    Plant Killer (Almost)

    My journey into plant parenthood began like a rom-com montage – sun-drenched trips to the nursery, whispered promises of “thriving, not just surviving,” and visions of my apartment transformed into a verdant paradise. Fast forward to reality, and let’s just say my thumbs were less than green. I’m talking crispy edges, wilting stems, and a graveyard of terracotta pots that haunted my dreams (okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but you get the picture).

    But amidst the botanical carnage, something strange happened. I learned. I adapted. I even (dare I say it?) succeeded! Turns out, there’s a whole set of unspoken rules to this plant parenting gig, and once you master them, you unlock a world of leafy joy (and maybe a slight obsession with fertilizer, but that’s a story for another day).

    Plants, my friends, are masters of passive aggression. They won’t yell at you for forgetting to water them, but they will subtly droop, brown, or even shed a leaf or two just to keep you on your toes. Consider it their way of adding a little drama to your life.

    Rule #2: One Person’s Trash is Another Plant’s Treasure (Literally)

    Remember that banana peel you were about to toss? Or those eggshells you thought were destined for the compost bin? Hold up! You’ve got plant food gold in your hands, my friend. From coffee grounds to used tea bags, everyday kitchen scraps can be transformed into nutrient-rich treats for your leafy companions.

    Not only will you be reducing waste and channeling your inner eco-warrior, but your plants will reward you with lush growth and maybe even a grateful nod (okay, maybe not the nod, but a girl can dream!).

    The Green Thumb Awaits

    So there you have it – the unspoken rules of plant parenthood, revealed! It’s a journey filled with ups and downs, triumphs and tribulations, but most importantly, a whole lot of leafy love. Now, tell me, what are some of the hilarious or heartwarming moments you’ve experienced as a plant parent? Share your stories in the comments below!