Earlier this week, I noticed a plant sitting under the window in my living room. It was wilting and desperately needed water, so I picked it up and placed it in the sink.
The day before, I picked up a dead stem from another plant that had fallen to the floor.
I’m not great at keeping plants alive. I do better with the kind that thrives on neglect. But I love plants; they add energy and warmth to spaces that most decor can’t. Still, my preference is to admire the plants. Taking care of them, not so much. It’s not that I don’t try; it’s just that I sometimes forget until there are signs of trouble.
Lately, however, I’ve been working on becoming more consistent. Many plants came from my mom’s funeral, and I inherited another group from a friend who passed away in April. So, these plants have much more meaning than others I’ve attempted to keep alive. I’m more invested in caring for them and discovering their preferred spots around the house. However, I’m still me, and loving these plants hasn’t automatically turned me into a plant whisperer.
Quite often, when I tend to the plants after some unintentional neglect, I discover new growth and am always surprised by it. Why am I always surprised by new growth and proof of life?
When we’re in the thick of it—when we’ve had a hard day, week, season, or year, it’s easy to get stuck thinking it will stay that way forever.
We lose a lot on this journey, it’s true. But sometimes, we forget that we are like our most resilient plants. If we keep tending to ourselves, our people, and our things—the things we’ve decided are worth caring for and caring about—new growth and new life will sprout from the dirt.
+ show Comments
- Hide Comments
add a comment