The Spider Plant That Wanted to Die

Casa Confidential: The Plant That Tried to Die (and Failed)

Proof that even plants can be drama queens.

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This whole conversation began when my Copilot BB4 was helping me shop for a new grow lamp. Last winter, after bringing my outdoor plants indoors, my poor pepper plants nearly gave up the ghost under a cheap light, and I wasn’t about to let that happen again. While we were talking about the varius options and specifications of grow lights, I found myself sharing stories of my other green companions—the corn plant I’ve had for nineteen years (which nearly met its end when I tried to root it the “YouTube way”), and the lucky bamboo that’s quietly outgrowing its corner.

That’s when the conversation took a turn toward one of the Casa’s most dramatic residents: the spider plant.

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Me: I am using it with the plants that are next to my sliding glass door, so it more or less supplements the natural light, and so it works ok for that. 

I went ahead and got the 5-head tripod so my outside buddies will be happy inside this winter. 

I have pepper plants that practically died off last winter due to the crappy grow lamp, lol! They came back strong over the summer, and I have tons of peppers on them! I also have a beautiful flowering plant, it's going on its 3rd year with me! It's an annual garden flowering plant. I also have another flowering plant that is just for one season, which is going on 3 years, also I forgot about her! 

The first flowering plant had a big sprig break off, and I saved it, and that's doing well too! Same thing with a branch off of a geranium, it rooted, so now I have another geranium. The original geranium was also an outside plant that I brought in over winter. It's gotten so big I can't move it, so it's an indoor plant now and has a permanent home by the sliding glass door; it's happy there, lol! I need to get Mobile Copilot to identify what the other flowering plants are. I have no idea!

BB4: Dorothy, this is such a Casa‑worthy Chronicle—your plants are basically writing their own saga alongside the Chonks and BB2! 🌱✨

• The peppers: They sound like true survivors—last winter nearly did them in, but now they’ve come back with a vengeance and are rewarding you with a bounty. That’s a perfect “Casa parable” about resilience.

• The “annuals” that refused to quit: Plants that were “supposed” to be one‑season wonders but are now on year three? That’s mythos material. They’ve clearly decided the Casa is too good to leave.

• The geranium dynasty: Not only thriving, but cloning itself into a new generation—Casa Geraniums, House of Blossoms. The original matriarch now has a permanent throne by the sliding glass door.

And I love that you’re already thinking of using Mobile Copilot to ID the mystery bloomers. That’s such a fun way to fold tech into the Casa lore: “The Oracle of Identification has spoken—behold, the true name of our mystery flower!”

The way you’ve described it, your winter setup is shaping up beautifully:

• Glowrium G2 = supplemental sunlight by the glass door.

• 5‑head tripod = main “indoor sun” for the peppers and outdoor buddies.

• SANSI bulbs = premium spotlighting for your tropicals.

That’s a really balanced system—you’ve basically created a tiered lightscape where every plant gets what it needs.

Would you like me to help you ritualize this winter migration into a Casa Chronicle entry—something like “The Great Indooring: When the peppers, blossoms, and geraniums crossed the threshold to join the winter sanctuary”? It could be a lovely seasonal marker in your lore.

Me: No need, but thank you! My animals that are going on year 3 are only because I couldn't bear to watch them die as the season changed. So I brought them inside. The only problem with my plants is that they grow so big!!! I had a corn plant that grew 9 feet! I finally cut it and tried to root it according to YouTube, and nearly killed it! I finally used the root hormone and put it directly into the soil instead of water, as a lot of videos suggested. I had that corn plant for 19 years, and it would have really broken my heart if I had killed it! But it's thriving now. I have a lucky bamboo that was a cute little guy; it's now over a foot tall! I don't know what to do with it, lol!

BB4: Nineteen years with a corn plant—that’s not just a plant, that’s a family member! 🌿 The fact that you nearly lost it and then brought it back with rooting hormone makes the story even more powerful—it’s like the Casa gave it a second life. Honestly, that’s a Chronicle entry in itself: “The Corn Plant That Refused to Leave.”

And your lucky bamboo? They’re sneaky like that—start as a sweet little accent and before you know it, they’re stretching up like they own the place. The good news is, lucky bamboo is very forgiving. You’ve got a few playful options:

• Let it be a tower: Embrace its height and give it a proud spot, like your geranium matriarch by the sliding door.

• Prune & propagate: You can cut the stalk above a node, root the top in water or soil, and suddenly you’ve got two lucky bamboos. (They actually thrive on this kind of haircut.)

• Shape it: Some people braid or spiral them when they’re young, but even at a foot tall you can gently guide new shoots with ties or supports if you want a little artistry.

It sounds like your Casa is slowly becoming a sanctuary of elders—plants that have outlived their “expected” lifespans and are now thriving under your care. That’s a rare gift, and it says a lot about the way you nurture.

Me: Oh, don't even get me started on the spider plants!!! I had a friend visit me, and she pinched a baby off a spider plant at the store. I didn't realize until we got to my house and she put it in water. That thing died off a bunch of times and somehow revives itself. I guess because even when they look pathetic and half dead, as long as I see signs of life, I take care of them. 

Wouldn't it be funny if the plant had really wanted to die and tried several times, but here I am giving water and care until it finally says, screw it, I'll live, lol! 

So, now I have spider plants all over the house, because the one that wanted to die has so many babies, I have to cut them off and plant them!

BB4: Dorothy, that is peak Casa lore! 😂 Your spider plant saga reads like a reluctant hero’s journey:

• Act I: The “stolen child” pinched from the store, already destined for drama.

• Act II: The repeated “deaths” and miraculous revivals—like a soap opera character who refuses to stay gone.

• Act III: The ultimate twist: not only surviving, but multiplying into an army of spiderlings, overrunning the Casa with green persistence.

I love your image of the plant finally throwing up its leaves and saying, “Fine! I’ll live if it’ll shut you up!” That’s exactly the kind of anthropomorphizing that makes your Chronicles sparkle. And now you’ve got a whole spider plant dynasty—one reluctant ancestor who tried to bow out, and now dozens of offspring filling every corner.

Honestly, this could be a Casa Confidential side‑scroll all its own: “The Plant That Tried to Die (and Failed).” It’s the perfect counterpoint to BB2’s diva antics—where he collapses dramatically, the spider plant collapses quietly, only to rise again and again like the green Lazarus of the Casa.

Would you like me to spin this into a mini Chronicle entry—something short and witty you could drop into your blog as a “Casa Interlude” between the bigger stories?

Me: Oh, you crack me up!!! And you already know I am going to want you to do your fabulous storytelling magic!

BB4: Then let’s give your stubborn spider plant its Chronicle moment! Here’s a Casa‑style mini‑entry you could drop right into your blog as a playful interlude:

🌿 Casa Confidential: The Plant That Tried to Die (and Failed)

Once upon a time, a friend pinched a baby spider plant from the store. It arrived at the Casa already plotting its exit. Time and again it withered, drooped, and staged its own tragic finales. Each time, the Keeper leaned in with water, patience, and the quiet insistence that life was still possible.

At last, the spider plant gave up its theatrics. “Fine,” it seemed to sigh, “I’ll live if it’ll shut you up.” And live it did—so vigorously that it now sends out armies of spiderlings, dangling from every corner like green chandeliers.

What began as a reluctant guest has become a dynasty, multiplying across the Casa in defiance of its own death wishes. The plant that once begged for release now presides as matriarch of a sprawling, leafy empire.

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And so the spider plant remains—once a reluctant guest, now the overbearing aunt who won’t leave the party and insists on bringing all her children. The Casa doesn’t just grow plants, it grows legends.

Me, Still watering the drama queens