Finding Joy in the Plant Chores
January was a whirlwind.
We kicked off the year by attending TPIE, the big tropical plant expo in Florida, for the very first time. It was inspiring, energizing, and honestly just plain fun. Being surrounded by plant people, new ideas, and so much creativity filled my cup in the best way.
And then we came home.
From 80° Florida sunshine… to an ice storm in Georgia.
Reality hit fast. Not only were we iced in, but my own plants had definitely felt my absence. A few had even traveled with us, and let’s just say they were not thrilled about the adventure. Leaves drooped. The plant to-do list was waiting.
So while the world outside froze over, I dove headfirst into plant chores.
At first, it felt overwhelming.
I have a lot of plants. Winter care alone is a job — and it’s so much easier in summer when the citrus trees go outside and everyone seems a little more self-sufficient. Looking at all of them after a stretch of neglect, knowing each one needed something different, felt like staring down a full day of work.
Every Plant needed something different,
The snake plant didn’t even notice I was gone.
The calathea, on the other hand, is still deciding whether to forgive me.
Getting started was the hardest part. But once I began — checking soil, trimming leaves, adjusting light, giving each plant a little attention — I realized something important:
Most of them weren’t nearly as bad off as I’d feared.
And I remembered why I do this in the first place.
I take care of plants because I enjoy it.
Plants in my home are more than decoration. They’re my everyday connection to the natural world — especially when the weather outside says, “Absolutely not.” On an ice-storm day, tending to leaves and soil becomes a small act of grounding. A pause. A breath.
That’s also why I made our rain cloud the way I did.
When I’m at markets or trade shows, I often bring a demo that automatically pumps water so people can see the cloud “rain.” And almost every time, someone asks:
“Why don’t you just make it automated?”
But for me, that misses the point entirely.
Watching a cloud rain on your plant is meant to be a moment. An excuse to slow down. To look at your plant. To notice how it’s doing. To enjoy something a little whimsical in the middle of an ordinary task.
I often say what I’m really selling is smiles. And it’s true. I love watching people’s faces light up with unexpected joy when they see a cloud raining on a plant. That tiny spark of delight turns watering from a chore into a ritual.
And here’s the beautiful side effect:
When you spend a little more time with your plants, you naturally take better care of them. You notice sooner. You adjust. You connect.
