For most of my adult life, I have scorned plants. I have never really liked them and they have always seemed to die around me. The only plant I've managed to keep alive was an orchid I received for my 16th birthday that seemed determined to live long and prosper: it bloomed four times in a year of having it. I had to scrap it only because I ended up leaving town for a couple of months and had no one to take care of it who knew what they were doing with plants. That orchid was the exception though.
In Lisbon, I eventually took notice of the two-inch succulents often on sale in supermarkets for the cost of a baguette. They're adorable. I figured I would probably kill one if I got it. I also thought that all of the materials for making a terrarium would be more expensive than I could justify. Moving roughly every six months and not knowing whether I would be somewhere with living conditions that could maintain a plant also posed its own problems, be it for social or lighting reasons, and so the idea of keeping plants remained an idea that would spring to mind when walking by them at the store or late at night during wishful Google searches, educating myself on how best to take care of one just in case. You can't kill a plant that exists only on Pinterest or in tumblr images.
Since moving, however, I decided that it would be a good time to take advantage of stable housing and IKEA warehouses that are easier to access via public transit. My apartment is small and the light is not perfectly ideal for sun-hogging plants like basil, but the climate in Barcelona is favorable for growing just about anything. It's not too dry, it's not too humid, and the temperatures are never extreme. What I thought would be a small, cheap indulgence quickly proved to be a deceiving source of enjoyment, starting with a collection of cacti and a lucky bamboo, culminating in several more succulents, attempts to propagate new succulents from bigger plants, and an assortment of other types of foliage that look nice and aren't fussy.
It turns out that the secret to keeping plants alive if you have a brown thumb is to buy plants that are hard to kill. That may seem like a cop-out, but with a little bit of research on how to set up your plants (what kind of soil do they require?), how much to water them (you can't just starve a cactus of water until you remember?), and how much sunlight they need (can plants survive with artificial lights?), easy plants are, indeed, easy. There are many more questions than I had first anticipated (see above), and the process is different than I had attempted with other plants. That said, I seem to have found a rhythm and the plants are thriving.
Cacti are succulent plants as well, so all together, the plants tend to fall into similar watering routines and need similar amounts of sunlight. Propagating succulents turns out to be similarly easy. Usually they will take root from a leaf that has fallen and dried, sprouting a tiny new plant in a matter of days. It doesn't always work—over- or under-watering the leaves and not letting the end dry can ruin them—but in most cases, you can quickly grow the cute little plants that seem so cheap and enticing at the store right from your own larger plants at home.
The way you arrange the plants allows for a lot of room to be creative. You can create a terrarium from just about anything, so long as it has space to allow for drainage. I found a bunch of pots around the apartment going unused, so I decided to take advantage of them for the sake of saving money on buying new ones. I've so far only had to get two pots, one of which houses a small ficus, and the other, which houses the two larger succulents. The smaller plants that remain in two-inch containers, as well as the propagated succulents in their glazed pot, will eventually be moved into more visually appealing homes, but for now, it works together as a set. I'm particularly fond of the clay pot with a cork-like textured outer appearance.
Cost, as I mentioned, was a concern. I assumed soil, fertilizer, pots, and any other treatments might end up exorbitantly inflating the single-digit cost of the plants, but as it turns out, if you do your research, you can get all of those things for a minimal amount of money. Plants can be found everywhere, from your local florist and supermarkets to bigger specialty stores and places like IKEA. I got my cacti from IKEA in a pack together for €3.50, the three succulents in the clay pot were purchased at a local plant shop for €1.50 together, and the remaining succulents were gifts that came from the garden of a neighbor who has a house overrun with plants in the mountains. Sandy, fast-draining soil for cacti and other succulents cost €1.50 for 5kg (more than plenty to get a small arrangement like mine set up, with soil left for more) at the only large garden center in Barcelona city limits, conveniently a short walk from home, and the rocks used for drainage and decoration range from €1.50 to €2.50, depending on the size of the pebbles. Water is free (well, nothing is free, but it's not an extra cost relative to the plants), so it's nothing to worry about, and the season for giving these kinds of plants fertilizer is several months away still, so those are costs not to worry about. Otherwise, pots are very flexible. You probably have some lying about your house that you forgot about like I did. The ones I paid for ranged from €2 to €3.50. In total, for the cost of a nice lunch, you can get your own plants.
Keeping the plants alive costs nothing, though, and there's nothing to say you shouldn't have fun with them. They're pretty, they're cute, they even may seem to have personalities of their own. I grow cilantro that is very sassy—dramatically flopping about and perking up based on the sun, water conditions, and what kind of mood it happens to be in. I like to give the plants names as well, old-fashioned lady-style names. I couldn't tell you why I find my plants to be ladies, but it seems to fit them better. So I have Mildred, Winnie, Edna, Letitia, Eunice, and Henrietta, among others. As they grow, they give way to new arrangements and make space for new small plants. Just be careful, once they start growing, you may not be able to stop getting new plants to thrive in your house—I can't seem to now.
In Lisbon, I eventually took notice of the two-inch succulents often on sale in supermarkets for the cost of a baguette. They're adorable. I figured I would probably kill one if I got it. I also thought that all of the materials for making a terrarium would be more expensive than I could justify. Moving roughly every six months and not knowing whether I would be somewhere with living conditions that could maintain a plant also posed its own problems, be it for social or lighting reasons, and so the idea of keeping plants remained an idea that would spring to mind when walking by them at the store or late at night during wishful Google searches, educating myself on how best to take care of one just in case. You can't kill a plant that exists only on Pinterest or in tumblr images.
Since moving, however, I decided that it would be a good time to take advantage of stable housing and IKEA warehouses that are easier to access via public transit. My apartment is small and the light is not perfectly ideal for sun-hogging plants like basil, but the climate in Barcelona is favorable for growing just about anything. It's not too dry, it's not too humid, and the temperatures are never extreme. What I thought would be a small, cheap indulgence quickly proved to be a deceiving source of enjoyment, starting with a collection of cacti and a lucky bamboo, culminating in several more succulents, attempts to propagate new succulents from bigger plants, and an assortment of other types of foliage that look nice and aren't fussy.
Cacti are succulent plants as well, so all together, the plants tend to fall into similar watering routines and need similar amounts of sunlight. Propagating succulents turns out to be similarly easy. Usually they will take root from a leaf that has fallen and dried, sprouting a tiny new plant in a matter of days. It doesn't always work—over- or under-watering the leaves and not letting the end dry can ruin them—but in most cases, you can quickly grow the cute little plants that seem so cheap and enticing at the store right from your own larger plants at home.
The way you arrange the plants allows for a lot of room to be creative. You can create a terrarium from just about anything, so long as it has space to allow for drainage. I found a bunch of pots around the apartment going unused, so I decided to take advantage of them for the sake of saving money on buying new ones. I've so far only had to get two pots, one of which houses a small ficus, and the other, which houses the two larger succulents. The smaller plants that remain in two-inch containers, as well as the propagated succulents in their glazed pot, will eventually be moved into more visually appealing homes, but for now, it works together as a set. I'm particularly fond of the clay pot with a cork-like textured outer appearance.
Cost, as I mentioned, was a concern. I assumed soil, fertilizer, pots, and any other treatments might end up exorbitantly inflating the single-digit cost of the plants, but as it turns out, if you do your research, you can get all of those things for a minimal amount of money. Plants can be found everywhere, from your local florist and supermarkets to bigger specialty stores and places like IKEA. I got my cacti from IKEA in a pack together for €3.50, the three succulents in the clay pot were purchased at a local plant shop for €1.50 together, and the remaining succulents were gifts that came from the garden of a neighbor who has a house overrun with plants in the mountains. Sandy, fast-draining soil for cacti and other succulents cost €1.50 for 5kg (more than plenty to get a small arrangement like mine set up, with soil left for more) at the only large garden center in Barcelona city limits, conveniently a short walk from home, and the rocks used for drainage and decoration range from €1.50 to €2.50, depending on the size of the pebbles. Water is free (well, nothing is free, but it's not an extra cost relative to the plants), so it's nothing to worry about, and the season for giving these kinds of plants fertilizer is several months away still, so those are costs not to worry about. Otherwise, pots are very flexible. You probably have some lying about your house that you forgot about like I did. The ones I paid for ranged from €2 to €3.50. In total, for the cost of a nice lunch, you can get your own plants.
Keeping the plants alive costs nothing, though, and there's nothing to say you shouldn't have fun with them. They're pretty, they're cute, they even may seem to have personalities of their own. I grow cilantro that is very sassy—dramatically flopping about and perking up based on the sun, water conditions, and what kind of mood it happens to be in. I like to give the plants names as well, old-fashioned lady-style names. I couldn't tell you why I find my plants to be ladies, but it seems to fit them better. So I have Mildred, Winnie, Edna, Letitia, Eunice, and Henrietta, among others. As they grow, they give way to new arrangements and make space for new small plants. Just be careful, once they start growing, you may not be able to stop getting new plants to thrive in your house—I can't seem to now.
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