Succulents are all the millennial rage right now. It’s no wonder, really. In this unfriendly, expensive world, plants detoxify our tiny apartments. (Obviously we can’t afford our own homes because of all the avocado toast, duh.) These little matte bits of green are like pets–we give them names, cute cups to live in, water them and make sure they have plenty of sunshine.
Well ok…I say we. But really I mean ALL OF MY FRIENDS. Because let’s face it. The aloe plant I brought home from Ikea, lovingly dubbed Vera, is not faring so well. I read all the Pinterest blurbs, but somehow in transplanting her from that ugly plastic pot into her shiny new home…something went drastically wrong.
Vera’s roots won’t hold her up, and she stubbornly keeps falling over! Right now, she’s held up with a pen and rubber band, in an effort to keep her from tipping. She does still seem to be growing, but more out of rebellion, I think, than any of my desperate efforts to keep her alive.
This isn’t the only time I’ve almost failed (almost succeeded?) at gardening. We’ve moved around quite a bit in the last few years, and at every house we stop at, there’s always some sort of neglected yard or garden. Flowers seem to pop out of nowhere, left behind by a long gone owner–so I try to trim back the weeds to let them flourish. I should just leave well enough alone because I end up going way too far. The garden ends up looking naked and bald by the time I’m done with it.
PUT DOWN THE TRIMMERS, HALEY!
I think the lesson here is that nature knows what it’s doing. And I should just stick to using books for colorful decoration instead of plants.