As a child, I loved plants. I remember my grandma’s jade pothos trailing around her kitchen and rows of strawberries in my grandfather’s meticulously kept garden. I can still picture the macrame-hung spider plant in my aunt’s apartment. Rays of light reached between the ropes like sunbeams through church windows; it was peaceful. My story with houseplants didn’t start till much later in life. 

My living spaces were nothing like those childhood memories. Between Chicago and New York, I spent my adult life in cramped apartments with shoebox-sized windows. Jackhammers, car horns, and shouting matches blared regularly. No matter what neighborhood I ended up in, I always tried to rent an apartment on the top floor, hoping it would make things brighter, like a plant stretching for sunlight. 

Transitions Can Be Trying

In 2014 everything shifted. After a long stretch of living in New York City, I moved back to Chicago and got married. I finally felt at home, but the transition was rough. I left my job, my friends, and was struggling with a medical issue that prevented me from working. Years of living in New York left me burnt out, and at the same time, I was anxious about the future.

I had too much time to think however, distraction helped so between worrying I focused on decorating my new home. One January night in the dead of winter, I took a short trip to The Home Depot to buy something mundane. As I passed the plant section, I saw a hanging spider plant that glowed! Its green, glossy, ribbon-like leaves spiraled out of the center like a party decoration. I had to have it.  

A New Passion Grew

At home, the spider plant lifted my spirits. It brightened the space and felt like a peaceful green companion. When I needed to relax, I would look at the plant and feel calm. I began doing research on how to care for it, and found a community of plant lovers on social media. A whole new world opened up. I found a new passion. I studied horticulture, grew my plant collection, and spent hours photographing green leaves and new shoots. My life slowly began to reshape, and I felt less anxious.

Working with plants is like meditation for me; I get completely absorbed in it. Time disappears when I am repotting plants or building terrariums. Cultivating houseplants requires me to slow down, and observe carefully. To rescue a plant I have to zoom in, see the details, and look for small changes like new buds, or varying shades of green. It’s amazing how you can tell the difference between a happy plant, buzzing with life, and a plant that is just surviving. 

Talk Less, Listen More

People often confess they talk to their plants, but I try to listen to mine, because doing so brings me a lot of peace. When we slow down and connect with our plants, they tell us a lot about how to care for them. Our plants deserve our full attention, because they have so much to give in return. They demonstrate how to bounce back after a rough season, how to be resilient, and how to adapt with grace to our ever-changing growing conditions.