I’m having a bit of a phase. It’s a phase that might turn out not to be a phase after all, by which I mean it might well end up lasting forever.
The phase is plants. I’m a bit obsessed.
The thing with plants is that they get addictive. Ages ago I discovered my local garden centre, which features in a lot of my posts on here and on social media, and I bought a plant. Just one little plant. A monstera. I bought it because of the name.
And it made me so happy that I bought a load of other plants for my bathroom too.
Then I thought I’d try my hand at growing some tomatoes, and it went very well. Supernaturally well, in fact.
Now I have a little tomato jungle in my living room.
Not so little, actually.
After the monstera and the bathroom plants and the tomato jungle, I became completely obsessed. I want plants EVERYWHERE. I want to give all my money to the lovely garden centre and buy all their plants and also all their plant-themed homeware items and live surrounded by greenery, like I’m in my own little London forest.
And I’m getting inspiration from all sorts of places. This house, for example, is pure plant goals.
LOOK HOW BIG THEIR MONSTERA IS IT’S TRYING TO CLIMB OUT OF THE WINDOW.
I also keep seeing plant-themed things I want. For example.
My bed could be plants.
My chairs could be plants.
My walls could be plants.
My lights could be plants.
My frames could have plants in them.
My curtains could be plants.
And, of course, the outside of my house could be covered in plants. That’s a very West London thing to do. At the moment I’m trying to train a jasmine up my drainpipe. I have some way to go before the outside of my house looks like this, but hopefully I’ll get there one day.
Send me your plantspiration. Feed my obsession.