Summary

The author recounts their journey from purchasing a single plant to becoming a passionate plant enthusiast, amassing a collection of over fifteen plants within three months.

Abstract

The narrative begins with the author's initial purchase of a simple house plant, which rekindles childhood memories of gardening and sparks a newfound obsession with plants. As they successfully nurture their first plant, the author's confidence grows, leading to the rapid expansion of their plant collection. This passion is fueled by modern technology and social media, where the author finds a community of like-minded individuals and a wealth of information. The trendiness of plants among millennials further validates the author's hobby, turning their home into a veritable indoor garden. Despite the excess, the author embraces their role as a plant caretaker with love and dedication.

Opinions

The author initially doubts their ability to keep a plant alive, recalling past failures with house plants.
Nostalgia plays a significant role in the author's decision to buy the first plant, reminiscing about the joy of watching seeds sprout and grow during childhood.
The author perceives the resurgence of indoor plants as a trendy "Millennial thing" and eagerly embraces it.
The author takes pride in the growth and maintenance of their plants, sharing updates and milestones on social media platforms.
Despite the proliferation of plants in their home, the author does not regret their decision and cherishes each plant, likening their living space to a "secret garden."
The author displays a sense of humor and self-awareness about their plant addiction, acknowledging the transformation into a plant-loving persona akin to the stereotype of a "crazy old cat lady."

There is a plant epidemic

And I am knee-deep in it

The addiction began like all addictions. One innocent try. One misguided attempt to try something new. See what it would be like, unaware of the black hole I would spiral into.

You got it. I bought a plant. It was your run of the mill $4.99 house plant that to this day I am still not sure what it is called. On a cold grey February, I stood in Giant Tiger staring at the array of plants on display in the middle of the aisle. I thought to myself of the plants in the past that I murdered with my lack of care. The numerous poinsettia’s given as gifts who died on top of my freezer. Deprived of water and sun. The succulents that melted down to goo. The various other plants over a lifetime that met similar fates.

I stared at those plants like a bird of prey. I could have a plant and maybe- just maybe-keep it alive this time.

I pondered. Was this a commitment I was up for? My children were grown or almost grown. Did I want to take on the care of a plant when I was starting to be footloose and fancy-free? I had a dog for crying out loud. Could I handle all that commitment?

I stared at the plant and memories of childhood flooded my vision. Growing bean seeds in a clear plastic cup stuffed with a wet paper towel. The thrill every morning checking that cup to see if that tiny seed squished to the side had split and sprouted a root. Popping toothpicks into an avocado pit and putting it in water. Watching it sprout and grow into a spindly twig with a couple of leaves on the top.

So awesome.

Those were good times. Come to think of it, they were great times. They were the memories that riddled my childhood. I was a 70’s kid. It was the norm to have Aunt Sharon come over with clippings to share. There was no surprise to walk into a friend’s house and see their wall pinned with wandering vines. Everything macrame was cool, right on.

Super hip, if it hung with a plant in it.

That was it.

Sold.

I clutched the plant nearest to me and headed to the checkout. Feeling warm and fuzzy as the past lingering behind me.

Once home I put my prized purchase near a window taking care to put it where I would see it daily. No plant was going to succumb to death by my hand again. I was making sure of it.

I waited. I tended. I watered. I googled. Then something happened. Something wonderful happened. It began to thrive.

I am a gardener. I have a green thumb. Call me Mother Nature. I rule the plant world.

I bought another plant.

Then another, and you got it. Another.

In the span of three months, I went from one plant to about fifteen. Some were ones I propagated. Some were grown from seeds. Most were bought. Not just bought, sought and bought.

The interesting thing about today is there is easy access to technology. Information at your fingertips. It takes a normal OCD and pumps it full of adrenaline. That one little plant sent me on a quest to find out how to be the best plant mom ever. I was determined that I would have the plants of envy.

Welcome to the world of plants 2.0. Little did I know plants are the rave of the day once again. A Millennial thing. A trend.

Like most things, I hopped onto the theme of the moment and was riding it high.

You are redoing your kitchen? You need an English Ivy. Something missing in your living room? Fig tree all the way, but DON’T TOUCH IT! Don’t you dare touch it. Going to a friend’s house warming. That’s right. You bring them the biggest snake plant you can find, and you bring it in style. Dressed in a grass weaved basket.

Nothing, I repeat nothing says I celebrate you than a snake plant in a grass basket.

I had fallen, deep. There was no looking back. Plants I never knew existed months before I had to have. I joined facebook plant lover groups and tagged everything plant on instagram. I stopped taking pictures of my pug and kids. I posted pictures of my plants and the various degrees of growth they were in. I gushed with pride when my very expensive monstera deliciosa finally grew a split leaf.

I know. I know.

I went from friends oohing and awwing my growing collection to needing a safari tour guide to get through my living room.

I have become the crazy old cat lady down the street, minus the cat. Grey’s garden is inside my house.

Excessive? Yes. Love? You got that right. I love every sprouting leaf.

As I go through my watering routine singing Queen at the top of my lungs. I bask in the glory of being immersed in my own secret garden. I twirl around, water jug in hand like a fair maiden in a fairy tale. Pouring life into each and every plant.

And then. I stop.

At the run of the mill $4.99 house plant that to this day I am still not sure what it is called. Pick it up, go to the garbage, and dump the dead plant in.