The Diary of a Well-Watered Home
- aj374888
- Apr 1
- 11 min read
Some people who live alone have cats, birds, or even fish. For a lot of us that have animal-restrictive leases, we found an alternative – houseplants. They need food, water, clean environments, sunlight, and nurturing. Unlike animals or children, they don’t talk back.
The first argument that I usually get is that plants don’t communicate. I am certainly no expert in biology, but I know my peace lily tells me when he’s thirsty – that beautiful little shit droops like he needs a Red Bull.
My plants names and pronouns are not at all reflective of their reproductive properties – everyone is welcome here. Their special pronouns, like that little shit Fitz, simply reflect the level of drama they bring to the table.
Nothing thrives in neglect—and for a long time, I didn’t realize how much that applied to me. It started with my plants: more light, better watering, a little consistency. Then something shifted. My space felt different. I felt different. Without realizing it, I had started building a well-watered home.
Welcome to Spector, Litt, Pope – Botanical Division at Grey Sloan Memorial.
Also known as, the greenest bay window in town.
This isn’t my first attempt at houseplants – I was furloughed for six weeks during COVID and found my green thumb on the unsuspecting victims already present. My townhouse, at the time, had great natural light and my dog couldn’t have cared less about eating plants, unless they became covered in peanut butter. I had monsteras, alocasias, pothos, vincas, herbs, aloes, and philodendrons. I didn’t truly understand how much the natural light there affected them and unfortunately, I lost a lot of those plants when I moved. While my boyfriend and I lived together, we tried really hard to figure out the lighting, but I lost interest. I’m going to give him credit though – he’s got a knack for spider plants and recently introduced a parlor palm to his collection willingly.
The biggest selling point of my current apartment was the bay window in the living room. The first time I saw the window, I was in love. Once I settled in, I decided it was time for some plants.
My main section of the window faces northeast. My left (western facing) window has a beautiful view of the Susquehanna River and almost constantly has a gentle river breeze flowing through it. My right (eastern facing) window overlooks the main street in town and lights pink with the sunrise. Doing some research (and a little trial-and-error chaos) taught me that I have great “bright, indirect light” potential, opening up a world of possibilities. Failing in the face of so much potential was the last thing I wanted to do. So I stopped buying plants the way I used to – lined up under fluorescent lights, traumatized, waiting to be rescued – and I started buying with intention.
Blanche teaches her way out of St. Olaf and into my heart...
It all started with Blanche, who remains my oldest plant. Bought in February, 2024, off Facebook Marketplace in a box of random plants from an overwhelmed mom downsizing her extensive collection, Blanche is a Snow Queen pothos, or Epipremnum areum ‘Snow Queen’. These pothos are highly variegated to the point of being almost white. The more bright, indirect light this species gets, the whiter the leaves. Because of this, the plant doesn’t have a ton of chlorophyll and is a pretty slow grower.
Blanche has visited many spaces in my apartment over the past two years, but she’s happiest in and around the bay window. I was very fortunate that she was well taken care of before me – she had lovely roots and good draining soil that she stayed in for months. One of the best parts about finding her on Marketplace? I didn’t just purchase a plant; I made a connection. When it was time to repot, I reached out to her seller for advice that I still use (and will share another time). A few months ago, Blanche successfully propagated babies that were transferred to soil and have become well-established plants in their own right – Rose and Dorothy.
Listen, I could only fall asleep to The Golden Girls when I first moved in here.
The rest of the box that Blanche came home in died within a few weeks. This was entirely my fault – I watered them all identically and didn’t provide each with the light requirements they needed (again – eventually, I’ll learn though). For a long time, Blanche was teaching me how to be a good plant mom. Turns out, she’s a damn good teacher.
Around Christmas last year, I was gifted Donna. Donna is my stable, steady aloe. My dad’s wife is from The Philippines and has a great green thumb. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you there were dozens of aloes around my dad’s garage. His wife stuck Donna in the back of my Jeep. Full disclosure – my last aloe died from extreme overwatering and rot root, so I was initially thrilled to carry this fifteen-pound beast up 22 steep steps in the freezing cold. My mind quickly changed. Donna gets watered maybe monthly (or when I remember), has a “secret” crush on the baseboard heater, and steadily observes the madness.
Plants, like the rest of the world, slow down in winter. Less light and colder conditions slow their growth as they conserve energy. I was trying to do the same thing with my wallet, but I had a weak moment. I was doomscrolling and came across an ad for a big box seller. I wasn’t familiar with the plant they were selling (Syngonium neon robusta), but it had big, pretty, pink leaves. I’ve never ordered a plant so fast (I broke my no-big-box-shopping rule).
It took a few weeks to arrive. The day before the estimated delivery date, we got almost 8” of snow and the date got pushed back. Traumatized doesn’t even begin to describe the condition this plant arrived in. Unfortunately, that particular plant didn’t make it, but the company did quickly send a replacement – now named Harvey.
Harvey has flourished with consistent bottom watering and living close to both the humidifier and the best light. Like his namesake, Harvey Spector, this dude is a total showoff – big leaves in beautiful shades of pink and green. Not only was my confidence now growing, so was my dream plant list.
While I had no intention of immediately adding more plants, I knew that wouldn’t last long and I’d need somewhere for them to call home. I started looking online at different plant stands and began planning a vision for my bay window. Facebook Marketplace once again knew better than me. I found a used, six-tier, bamboo plant stand for $15. It fit perfectly in the bay window with the wrought iron stand I had in storage.
Of course, Facebook Marketplace can’t just show you what you actually need. The algorithm clearly knows me too well and I started seeing a listing for a monstera adansonii… in a 4” pot, well rooted. I had to have it. As every good plant lady does, I got talked into buying some other plants from the same seller. Her plants are well established with good roots and perfect soil mixtures. They couldn’t wait to show off once they got to their new home.
This influx brought Sloan (monstera adansonii), Olivia (Epipremum aureum ‘Marble Queen’), and the African violet twins, Huck and Quinn. Quinn provided me with three leaves for propagation before being gifted to my aunt.
Sloan, named because she came out of quarantine the same day Eric Dane passed away, is probably the sole cause of any high blood pressure I might have. I’m convinced I’m going to do something and kill her instantly.
Olivia, the Marble Queen pothos, has made it her mission to flourish anywhere under any conditions. Being a Marble Queen pothos, Olivia has a lot more green, almost the opposite of Blanche – mostly deep green scattered with white and lighter greens. She naturally grows much faster than Blanche and has a good balance of bushiness and vines.
Huck, the African violet who arrived with Sloan and Olivia, scared me at first. I wasn’t sure the temperamental reputation had a safe spot in my greenhouse. I was just happy to enjoy the current blooms. Huck had a covert mission – he taught me pruning, patience, watering with a terracotta pot, and surviving through the ever-changing humidity levels.
Spector, Litt, Pope assigns their first CEO & nightmares come true...
I was starting to feel like my green thumb was showing. I was quickly climbing the ladder to becoming CEO of Greenhouse Operations. I took a risk and got some transcendentia zebrina cuttings and purple oxalis corms from the sweetest grandma on Facebook. We talked in her greenhouse for almost an hour. I wasn’t familiar with corms when I got there, but I’m staring at my first corm bloom, wide open, and I owe it all to that shared knowledge.
Being around a few other plant ladies gave me the confidence boost I needed to join a plant club. People hanging out, talking about plants, drinking wine (it’s at a winery—required), and you get to take home a plant after you learn all about it? Honestly, it felt almost too perfectly aligned to my life.
Of course, the night of Plant Club, we got rain and a thunderstorm warning. I’m almost 37—I grabbed my umbrella and ran to the Jeep, complaining the whole time.
Within minutes, the wind, thunder, and lightning kicked up. I turned up Spotify like Ella Langley was going to drown out my nerves and debated whether a sweet white or fruity wine would be my reward for surviving the drive. The rain came down so fast I could barely see the road lines. Thank God for the black Jeep Cherokee in front of me—I followed her like my life depended on it.
Then the alarms started. Actual sirens. Seek shelter immediately—tornado in the area.
My actual nightmare.
I pulled into the winery breathless and crying, immediately secured a chilled pink Moscato (a bottle… and then another one to go), and sat with the mom and daughter from the black Jeep like we’d just survived something together—because we kind of had.
I left that night with two parlor palms, a mother of thousands propagation, and a rooted pothos Shangri-la. The plant of the month was the parlor palm—that’s how Mellie earned her spot at the firm. There were extras since people cancelled because of the weather (which, apparently, is something you can do), so I grabbed one for my boyfriend’s place too.
Jesse Palmer is now thriving under his care—aka my watering reminder texts when Mellie gets her spa bath.
Once I stopped being afraid of killing everything, I started paying attention to what was actually working—and building my own system.
My dream plant list was growing just as quickly as my skills. I don’t think I ever believed I would actually buy anything off that list – mostly because I’ve got champagne tastes on a beer budget, self-inflicted. Do I want a monstera Thai constellation? Yes. Am I willing to spend over $50 on any one plant? Abso-freakin-lutely not.
Imagine my surprise when I found a staghorn fern for under $30. The woman selling it had several other plant listings on Facebook – all beautiful and healthy. My lovely boyfriend convinced me that I needed to grab another one, but not a pothos, please.
That’s how we ended up at a random Dollar General on a beautiful, windy Saturday afternoon, loading a huge staghorn fern and a peace lily into a big Bogg bag in the backseat of Betty. After enjoying an afternoon at a winery overlooking the river and my apartment, followed by an overnight visit to the boyfriend’s house, the newest additions finally arrived at my apartment.
Mick Stagger (guess which plant that is) immediately unpacked. He’s currently potted, about three feet tall and four feet at his widest, with new pups sprouting on his root ball like he owns the entire apartment now.
Fitz, the peace lily, may be the most dramatic plant I own. Look at him the wrong way and he droops like you insulted him. Rotate his pot? Totally chill, as long as you rotate it exactly 31 degrees to the left only. When he gets thirsty, he reaches down like he’s pointing at his slightly less-than-moist soil with attitude.
Sometimes, the best battle plan is a little freakier than expected...
Successfully caring for plants comes down to picking your battles. I really hate dealing with pests, so I prioritize quarantining and cleaning my plants upon arrival. When I bring a new plant home, whenever possible, I first shower or rinse them and lightly shake off any travelers. I keep them separate from my established plants for 10-14 days.
Where they quarantine depends on the light needs of the plant. If it can tolerate lower light, my baker’s rack is my first line of defense. My coffee table is on casters, making it an easier choice if I need to move plants closer to the window for light. If a plant needs full light or is just growing, I clear off the top of my wrought iron stand for quarantine.
Every plant owner has a top or bottom preference that they’ll vigorously defend. I’m obviously talking about watering preferences, you little freak. Not shaming anyone here, but we bottom water in this apartment. I’ve found this encourages root growth, prevents gnats, and makes overall healthier, happier plants. I don’t have a set watering schedule but I check my plants daily for tells. When the soil looks dry, I stick my finger in the soil to determine if it needs water. I prefer to let the top inch to inch and a half get dry before I water, unless the plants’ leaves are droopy. That’s a sign to me that the plant is thirsty. Perky plant = happy plant.
Sloan, my monstera adansonii, has a coir pole. I spray the pole with water every other day. A damp pole mimics the natural growing environment of the plant and encourages larger leaves, more even fenestrations (slits), and faster growth. The first leaf Sloan unfurled after becoming a poledancer covered my hand. She’s showing continuous new growth, almost weekly.
Is it crazy ... or is it a small step towards saving our planet? ...
I don’t shy away from calling myself a crazy plant lady. More importantly than that though, I’m an intentional crazy plant lady. I strive to learn each plant and what makes them happy. From propagating to seeds to rapidly growing plants, looking at your plants and learning their soil and lighting needs will prevent a lot of common issues.
It turns out that growth doesn’t always feel like progress until you’re in it. Sometimes, it just looks like brighter leaves, steadier routines, and realizing – quietly – that your plants (and you) are doing better than you were before.
Nothing here is thriving by accident anymore - and neither am I.
What's next on Well Watered Wednesdays?
Now that we’re all caught up on the crazy, what’s next? More plants, of course! Each week is going to be a different side of crazy plant lady life. We’ll talk about propagating (hoping for the best), humidity, and which wine paired best with the Plant Club pick. Stay tuned and up to date.
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