Something to Care About
I’ve never told the story of how The Rainy Jungle began, so I thought it was time.
I used to work as the receptionist for the same company I’m at now. Fresh out of college and thinking the world was my oyster, I sat every day at the same desk, inputting the same papers over and over, wondering if this is what life was really about- working until you die.
I’ve always struggled with depression, and often need a change of scenery to bring me back out of the holes I dig myself into. Sitting in that office with all of it’s bright light, floor-to-ceiling windows, and vast emptiness. There was a single plant on the table, one of those red Anthurium you can get from Home Depot, that only existed because it had been a gift to the owner. Other than that, we had one fake plant that had been there so long it turned blue.
One day, the owner came out and asked me to find him a new silk plant to fill that planter in the corner, the one with the blue plant, and I thought, “Why not bring something living in here? Why not find something to make me feel less lonely?” I hopped on Amazon (I know, I know…) and bought myself a Monstera Deliciosa.
The day it showed up, I grabbed some of that horrible Miracle-Gro potting soil and threw that baby in it’s new home. Well, as I’m sure you can predict, things did not go well. I couldn’t figure out why it was so droopy all the time? Why were the leaves turning yellow in some places? WHY WAS IT NOT GROWING?!
I decided that I couldn’t just give up, mama didn’t raise no quitter, so I took that bitch home. I named her Robin, and began doing intense research into what she liked. What did she need to thrive?
Enter: Plant Instagram.
Holy moly I had no idea that there were real people who had tens, hundreds, what felt like thousands of thriving plants and meanwhile I couldn’t keep my single plant I’d ever owned in my life happy. So I began messaging people, pleading for help. Someone, anyone, save my plant that I suddenly, deeply care for.
I got a few responses about my soil composition, watering habits (they don’t need a drink every day!), and proper lighting. Needless to say, Robin began to grow, and as she did so did my love of plants. I was so excited to see that little croissant emerge for the first time, and then unfurl into existence. I enjoyed watching her grow so much and couldn’t figure out what it was about her that excited me so.
She made me feel needed. At a time in my life where I felt so unseen, so unheard, so invisible and useless, she made me feel needed. If I didn’t water her, who would? If I didn’t protect her, who else would care the way I do? She gave me purpose where I had none. As insignificant as that may seem, it was the world to me. It gave me a reason to keep going, to push through, to try harder. I began collecting more. And more. And some more.
Robin is no longer living, but her legacy lives on in the Jungle I’ve created in my home. I will forever remember her as my first plant, the one that started it all. The Rainy Jungle came to be because of a simple plant, no variegation, no velvet, no “rare” before her name, no fuss. The most common of plants brought me back to life, and renewed my sense of worth.
Once upon a time, there was a Monstera named Robin, and she will forever be the reason I have something to care about.
