Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: overwatering plants

  • 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!


  • The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent

    The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent




    The Unspoken Rules of Being a Plant Parent


    We all know the basic rules of plant parenthood, right? Provide sunlight, water occasionally, don’t let them turn into crunchy brown skeletons. Easy peasy! Or so I thought, before I was initiated into the secret society of Plant Parents. Turns out, there’s a whole set of unspoken rules that nobody tells you about.

    My Fern-tastic Initiation into Plant Parenthood

    My journey began innocently enough. I adopted a cute little fern, its fronds a vibrant green. I proudly displayed it on my windowsill, picturing myself as a natural nurturer, someone who could keep even the most delicate beings alive. I watered it diligently, sang to it (don’t judge), and even gave it a name (Fernie, in case you were wondering). Then, tragedy struck. Fernie started to droop. Its once-proud fronds shriveled, turning a sickly yellow.

    Panicked, I did what any self-respecting millennial would do – I googled it. Turns out, I was lovingly drowning poor Fernie. Thus began my crash course in the unspoken rules of plant parenthood.

    Rule #1: Google: Plant Parent Savior & Source of Anxiety

    Seriously, Google is a double-edged sword. On one hand, it’s a treasure trove of information. Yellow leaves? Google it. Brown spots? Google it. Plant suddenly doing the Macarena? Definitely Google it (and send video evidence).

    But here’s the catch – Google can also be a source of immense anxiety. Every search result leads to another potential problem, each more terrifying than the last. You’ll find yourself spiraling down a rabbit hole of root rot, spider mites, and fungal diseases, convinced your plant is on its deathbed.

  • 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


    Let’s be honest, I’m not exactly known for my green thumb. In fact, my plant-parenting skills are more comparable to a desert sandstorm than a nurturing rainforest. So, when my well-intentioned friend gifted me a leafy Calathea Orbifolia (a notoriously dramatic diva of the plant world), I knew I was in for a wild ride.

    From Black Thumb to…Slightly Less Black Thumb

    My journey with Orbie (yes, I named her) started out predictably rocky. I managed to overwater her within the first week, resulting in droopy leaves that seemed to judge my every move.

    life, I suppose): even when we mess up royally, there’s always a chance for redemption. I finally learned to pay attention to Orbie’s subtle cues. Her drooping leaves taught me the importance of listening, of observing the needs of those around me (and not just assuming I know what’s best). Who knew a plant could be such a demanding yet insightful teacher?

    Learning Patience From a Calathea

    We live in a world obsessed with instant gratification. Want to watch a movie? Stream it now. Need groceries? Order online. But Orbie, with her slow and steady growth, taught me the beauty of patience. I learned to appreciate the small victories: a new leaf unfurling, a subtle shift towards the sunlight.

  • Is My Houseplant Secretly Judging Me? (The Evidence is Suspiciously Strong)

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

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

    The Side-Eye Heard ‘Round the Living Room

    The other day, I was shamelessly devouring a bag of chips—okay, fine, it was my third that week—when I caught my peace lily, Beatrice, giving me this look. You know the one: a subtle tilt of the leaves, a slight droop, as if to say, “Seriously, Sharon? Again?”

    Now, I consider myself a rational person. I understand that plants don’t possess the cognitive capacity for judgment (at least, that’s what “they” want us to believe). But the evidence has been piling up, and frankly, Beatrice‘s passive-aggressive drooping is just the tip of the leafy iceberg.

    Leaves

    There’s a definite correlation between my life choices and Beatrice‘s overall well-being. The week I forgot to water her (twice!), she practically staged a dramatic fainting scene, leaves drooping lower than my spirits after a bad Tinder date. Coincidence? I think not.

    But here’s the kicker: the moment I finally remembered to give her a good soak, she perked right back up. And not just any perking up—it was like she was showing off, leaves glistening with newfound vigor, as if to say, “See, Sharon? This is how you care for a living organism.”

    Exhibit B: The Great Dust Debacle of 2023

    We all have our weaknesses, and mine, dear readers, is dusting. I’m not proud of it, but let’s just say my feather duster and I haven’t been on speaking terms for a while. Beatrice, of course, noticed. And did she let me have it!

    One morning, I awoke to find her normally vibrant leaves covered in a thick layer of dust. Now, I live alone. I own a very lazy cat who wouldn’t dream of exerting that kind of effort. The only logical explanation? Beatrice orchestrated the whole thing. A silent, leafy protest against my subpar housekeeping skills.

  • 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.

  • 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. I’m more likely to kill a cactus with kindness (read: overwatering) than nurture a delicate orchid. So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a peace lily for my birthday, I accepted it with a smile and a silent prayer.

    plant would teach me some big life lessons.

    Lesson #1: Tough Love for a Thirsty Plant (and Me)

    For the first few weeks, I babied that peace lily like it was a newborn panda. I watered it constantly, sang to it (don’t judge!), and even invested in a fancy plant humidifier. But instead of thriving, my poor lily started to wilt. Its leaves drooped, turning an alarming shade of yellow. Panicked, I did what any sane person would do: I Googled it.

    Turns out, I was loving my plant to death. Too much water was suffocating its roots, and the humidity was just adding insult to injury. The solution? Cut back on the water, let the soil dry out, and give it some space to breathe.

    It felt counterintuitive, but I reluctantly followed the advice. And guess what? My little lily perked right up! It was a valuable lesson in tough love, both for my plant and for myself. Sometimes, the best thing we can do for ourselves and others is to step back, give space, and let things happen naturally.

    Lesson #2: The Peace Lily That Taught Me Patience

    Once I got the hang of not drowning my plant, I settled into a routine. I watered it when the soil was dry, gave it a bit of fertilizer every now and then, and generally tried to ignore it (in a loving way, of course!).

    For months, nothing much seemed to happen. My peace lily stayed the same size, its leaves a healthy green but with no new growth. I started to wonder if I was doing something wrong. Was it stuck? Had I somehow stunted its growth forever?

    Then, one morning, I walked into my living room and nearly tripped over a giant new leaf unfurling from the base of the plant. It had seemingly sprouted overnight, a vibrant symbol of silent progress. I realized that even when I couldn’t see it, my plant had been growing underground, strengthening its roots and gathering the energy it needed to flourish.

  • The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    The Unexpected Life Lessons I Learned from a Houseplant

    My Brown Thumb and the Fern That Changed Everything

    Let’s be honest, my thumbs have 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 cheerful little potted fern, I accepted it with a mixture of delight and trepidation. Delight, because who doesn’t love a splash of green in their home? Trepidation, because, well… my track record.

    Plant Whispering (and Less is More)

    My first instinct was to shower my new leafy friend with attention. I watered it religiously, rotated it for optimal sunlight, and even serenaded it with my questionable rendition of “Here Comes the Sun” (don’t judge, the plant seemed to enjoy it… at first). However, my overzealous care resulted in a soggy, wilting mess. It turns out, even plants need their space.

    Just when I was about to accept defeat and invest in some high-quality plastic foliage, a seasoned plant parent (read: my neighbor with the magical green thumb) intervened. “You’re drowning the poor thing!” she exclaimed, gently taking the pot from my grasp. “Sometimes, less is more.” She proceeded to teach me the delicate art of plant whispering: observing, listening (metaphorically, of course), and responding to its needs rather than projecting my own insecurities onto it. Who knew?

    Lesson 2: Embracing the Pauses and Growth Spurts of Life

    With my newfound wisdom and a slightly less heavy hand, I nursed my fern back to health. It wasn’t always smooth sailing. There were periods of stagnation, where it seemed like my plant was frozen in time. Then, out of nowhere, a new frond would unfurl, reaching towards the sunlight with an almost comical enthusiasm.