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Tag: plant parent

  • Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Become a Plant Parent Too)

    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Become a Plant Parent Too)

    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Let’s be honest, my history with plants was less “green thumb” and more “leaves-turning-brown-on-contact.” I once managed to kill a cactus. A CACTUS. You know, the plant that thrives on neglect? Yeah, not even those desert warriors could survive my presence.

    So, imagine my surprise when, during the depths of lockdown boredom, I found myself inexplicably drawn to a sad-looking peace lily at the grocery store. It was like it was sending me an S.O.S. with its droopy leaves. Against my better judgment (and the warnings of my roommate), I took it home. And that, my friends, is how my journey into the wonderful world of plant parenthood began.

    The Unexpected Joys of Watching Things Grow (No, Really!)

    I’m not going to lie, the first few weeks were a nerve-wracking dance of Googling “how much water does a peace lily need” and frantically checking for signs of life. But then, something magical happened. My neglected peace lily, the one I was convinced I’d already murdered with kindness (or lack thereof), sprouted a new leaf.

    That tiny, green shoot filled me with an absurd amount of joy. It was like witnessing a tiny miracle, a testament to the fact that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t destined to be a plant grim reaper after all. And honestly, that feeling? It’s addictive. There’s something incredibly satisfying about nurturing another living thing and watching it thrive under your care.

    Plants: The Chillest Roommates You’ll Ever Have

    Unlike my actual roommate who tends to leave dirty dishes in the sink and blast terrible music at 2 a.m., my plants are the epitome of chill. They don’t require awkward small talk, they haven’t once complained about my questionable taste in reality TV shows, and they actually improve the air quality. Win-win!

    Plus, they’re excellent listeners. Having a bad day? Tell it to the succulents! Feeling stressed? Confide in your monstera! They won’t judge (or at least, I don’t think they will…).

    • Bonus: Plants are proven to reduce stress and boost your mood. Science says so!
    • Double Bonus: They can even make your home look more stylish. Forget expensive artwork, just get yourself a fiddle leaf fig and watch the compliments roll in!

    Ready to Embrace Your Inner Plant Parent?

    So, what are you waiting for? Ditch that black thumb and join the wonderful world of plant parenthood! Trust me, it’s way more fun (and less messy) than you might think.

    Now, tell me, what’s your biggest fear about becoming a plant parent? Let me know in the comments below!

  • Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Get Your Green Thumb On)

    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Get Your Green Thumb On)




    Confessions of a Recovering Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Get Your Green Thumb On)


    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent

    Okay, confession time: I used to be a notorious plant killer. Seriously, I could wither a succulent in a sauna. Give me a cactus, and I’d somehow manage to drown it. It was a sad state of affairs. So, imagine my surprise when, during a particularly uneventful trip to the grocery store, I found myself inexplicably drawn to a droopy little peace lily.

    “Don’t do it,” my inner voice cautioned, “Remember Barry the begonia? And what about Steve the spider plant? Their demise still haunts my dreams!”

    But something about the lily’s sad little leaves called to me. Maybe it was the promise of some much-needed greenery in my life, or maybe it was the deeply discounted price tag. Whatever the reason, I caved.

    And that, my friends, is how my journey into the unexpected (and surprisingly delightful) world of plant parenthood began.

  • 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!).

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

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

    We all know that feeling, right? That prickle on the back of your neck when you’re scarfing down leftover takeout at 2 AM, convinced your perfectly potted peace lily is whispering, “Seriously?” to the empty wine glass on the counter. Okay, maybe it’s just me. But hear me out, because I’ve compiled some pretty compelling evidence that my houseplant, Herbert (yes, he has a name, don’t judge!), is judging my life choices.

    Exhibit A: The Great Chip Crumb Debacle of ’23

    Picture this: It’s a Friday night, I’m home alone, rocking my oldest sweatpants and a questionable top knot. On the coffee table, a monument to my questionable decision-making: a family-sized bag of cheesy puffs, already half-gone. As I reach for another fistful, a stray crumb tumbles from my grasp and lands, with a soft *thump*, in Herbert‘s pot. I freeze.

    Now, any rational person would simply pick up the crumb and continue their cheesy puff-fueled descent into blissful oblivion. But not me. Because in that moment, I swear Herbert‘s leaves drooped just a little lower. It was a subtle shift, but unmistakable, like a disappointed sigh translated into plant language.

    Exhibit B: The Case of the Neglected Watering Can

    We all have our strengths. Plant care, sadly, is not one of mine. I try, I really do. But life gets hectic, you know? Deadlines loom, social obligations beckon, and suddenly it’s been three weeks since I last watered Herbert. And how does he react? By transforming into the botanical equivalent of a sulking teenager.

    Gone is the perky, vibrant foliage of his glory days. In its place: a symphony of drooping leaves and dramatic wilting. I swear I even saw a brown spot forming on one particularly offended leaf. The worst part? He knows I know. He’s doing it on purpose, I’m convinced.

    Exhibit C: The Suspiciously Well-Timed Growth Spurts

    Okay, I’ll admit, it’s not all doom and gloom in the realm of Herbert and his passive-aggressive plant judgments. There are moments, fleeting but glorious, when he seems almost…proud of me. Like the time I finally finished that freelance project I’d been procrastinating on for weeks. Or the morning after I actually cooked a healthy dinner (okay, it was just salad, but it counts!).

    On these rare and wondrous occasions, Herbert rewards my efforts with a sudden burst of growth. A new leaf unfurls, reaching towards the sunlight like a tiny, green thumbs-up. Coincidence? I think not. Herbert, in his own silent, leafy way, is acknowledging my triumphs.

    So, Is My Plant Judging Me, or Am I Just Crazy?

    Perhaps I’m reading too much into things. Maybe Herbert’s drooping leaves are just a result of inconsistent watering, not a commentary on my questionable life choices. But there’s a part of me, the part that still believes in magic and the interconnectedness of all living things, that likes to think otherwise.

    What do you think? Have you ever caught your houseplants throwing shade your way? Share your stories in the comments below, because misery loves company (and maybe a little plant-based therapy).

  • Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Join My Club)

    Confessions of a Reformed Plant Killer (and Why You Should Totally Join My Club)

    From Black Thumb to Proud Plant Parent: My Story

    Let’s be honest, folks. I used to be a plant killer. A serial one, in fact. I’d walk into the garden center with the best intentions, seduced by the vibrant orchids and leafy ferns, only to watch them wither and die a week later. My apartment looked like a graveyard of neglected greenery, a testament to my inability to keep anything alive that wasn’t powered by batteries.

    But then something magical happened. I stumbled upon a scraggly little succulent at a flea market, a dusty survivor with a “please love me” look in its tiny pot. Against my better judgment (and the advice of my horrified friends), I took it home.

    And guess what? That little succulent thrived! It grew new leaves, unfurled delicate blooms, and basically became my plant child. I was hooked. Thus began my journey into the wonderful, wacky world of plant parenthood.

    Leafy Roommates

    Now, I know what you’re thinking: Plants? Really? What’s so great about a bunch of leafy roommates who don’t pay rent? Well, let me tell you, the joys of plant parenthood are many and surprising:

    • Stress Relievers Extraordinaire: Forget the expensive spa day. Caring for plants is incredibly therapeutic. There’s something deeply calming about digging your hands in soil, watering thirsty leaves, and watching new growth emerge. It’s like meditation, but with more chlorophyll.
    • Interior Design on a Budget: Plants are the ultimate home décor hack. They add instant life, color, and texture to any space, transforming your humble abode into a vibrant oasis (or at least a convincing Instagram backdrop). And the best part? They’re way cheaper than that designer sofa you’ve been eyeing.
    • They Make You Look Responsible (Kind Of): Let’s face it, keeping a plant alive gives the illusion of having your life together. Sure, you might forget to pay your bills on time, but hey, at least your monstera is thriving! It’s a small victory, but we’ll take it.

    Plant Parenthood for Beginners: Tips for Success (Even if You’re a Recovering Plant Killer)

    Ready to embrace your inner plant parent? Awesome! Here are a few tips to get you started:

    1. Start Small and Simple: Don’t go overboard with a finicky fiddle-leaf fig right off the bat. Opt for beginner-friendly options like snake plants, ZZ plants, or the aforementioned succulents. They’re practically indestructible, even for us recovering plant killers.
    2. Don’t Overwater (Seriously): Overwatering is the kiss of death for most houseplants. When in doubt, feel the soil. If it’s dry, water it. If it’s damp, leave it alone. Your plants (and your peace of mind) will thank you.
    3. Embrace the Learning Curve: Look, even seasoned plant parents kill a plant (or five) from time to time. It’s all part of the journey. Learn from your mistakes, do your research, and remember, every brown leaf is an opportunity for growth (pun intended).
  • 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?

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

    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Secretly Judging Me



    We’ve all been there. You’re sprawled on the couch, three episodes deep into a cheesy reality show, a half-eaten bag of chips precariously balanced on your stomach. You glance up, and there it is: the judgment. From your houseplant.

    Is My Houseplant Giving Me the Side-Eye?

    It started subtly. I’d be rushing out the door, late for work, and catch a glimpse of my peace lily, Steve. (Don’t judge, I’m a firm believer in plants having dignified names.) It felt like he was… following me with his leaves.

    like he was disappointed.

    “Another takeout container in the recycling?” Steve seemed to sigh. “You know, composting is really not that hard.”

    Okay, maybe I was projecting. But the guilt was real.

    My Houseplant Judged My DIY Skills – I Swear!

    One particularly harried evening, I was attempting to assemble furniture using only a butter knife and sheer willpower (it was doomed from the start). I may have uttered a few choice words that would make a sailor blush. That’s when I saw it.

    Steve’s leaves did a full-body shudder.

  • 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 Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and Why You Should Join the Club)

    The Unexpected Joys of Being a Plant Parent (and Why You Should Join the Club)



    Plant Parent: My Story

    Let’s be honest, I used to be a plant killer. I’m talking serial succulent assassin, notorious cactus crusher. If a plant had the misfortune of entering my home, its life expectancy plummeted faster than my patience during rush hour traffic. But something changed last year. Maybe it was the pandemic-induced need for some living, breathing company that wasn’t on a screen. Maybe it was a desperate attempt to bring some life into my apartment, which, let’s face it, resembled a very organized storage unit. Whatever it was, I decided to give plant parenthood another shot.

    And guess what? I didn’t kill them! In fact, they thrived. And so did I. Turns out, being a plant parent comes with a whole host of unexpected joys.

    Stress Relief: Finding Zen One Leaf at a Time

    Remember that feeling of accomplishment you got from finishing a puzzle? Or the pure joy of finally conquering that impossible level on your favorite video game? That’s the feeling I get every time I see a new leaf unfurl on my monstera. It’s a small victory, sure, but it’s a victory nonetheless.

    There’s something incredibly therapeutic about caring for plants. The act of watering, pruning, and even just observing them can melt away stress like sunshine on a snowdrift. And the best part? They don’t judge your messy bun or your questionable dance moves while you’re repotting them (unlike certain furry companions).

  • 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 a Ficus

    Let’s be honest, we’ve all been there. You’re sprawled on the couch, three episodes deep into a reality TV marathon, a half-eaten bag of chips resting precariously on your stomach. You glance up, and there it is: that look. You know the one— a mixture of disappointment and disdain— from your houseplant. Okay, maybe I’m projecting, but hear me out. My ficus, Ferdinand, has been throwing some serious shade my way lately, and I’m convinced it’s because he secretly judges my life choices.

    maybe that was just the wind.

    Exhibit B: The Curious Incident of the Takeout Containers

    I’ll admit, I have a weakness for takeout. Pad thai on Tuesday? Why not! Sushi on Friday? Obviously! But apparently, Ferdinand finds my culinary choices appalling. I can practically hear him tut-tutting as I unpack yet another styrofoam container, his leaves rustling in disapproval. “Honestly,” he seems to murmur, “a salad wouldn’t kill you.”