Plant Personifications

I’ve been cultivating a cute little indoor garden lately, and I may just be imagining it all, but it seems like my plants have their own unique personalities. Read on if you’d like to know how I think of each of them…

Quinn is the big sister, the strong one, the rock. She supports that free spirit, String Bean, with her tagalong pals Peas and Carrots. Quinn is solid and sure, and she lifts others up selflessly. She’s quiet, but she contains multitudes, and she’s fiercely protective of her sisters. She’s also the best listener and secret-keeper you could ever hope to find. 

Dagwood is that hippie friend of yours who’s always attending music festivals and eating quinoa bowls and drinking matcha lattes. She has John Lennon sunglasses and floppy sun hats and flowy sundresses. She volunteers with Habitat for Humanity and is always adorned with at least one macramé anklet. She basks in the sunlight with flowers in her hair. 

Rose, Bud, and Bill are inseparable. They’re not triplets, but they might as well be. They finish each other’s sentences, can communicate without words, and have a comfortable ease that only comes with true, old friendships. They spend all their time together but never fight. They enjoy companionable silence, often simply enjoying each other’s company while engaging in separate activities. 

Ruby Wednesday is sweet and happy. She loves hugs and baking, and she’s committed to upward growth and becoming the best version of herself. She’s chatty in a way that puts others at ease, and you can listen to her until you forget your own thoughts. She’s generous and thoughtful and gives the perfect gifts. Her insight and attention to detail makes her seem like she knows you better than you know yourself. 

Evangeline is at home in the forest. She wanders beneath the towering trees, the soles of her feet tough from summers spent striding across pine needles, twigs, and stones. She leaves thoughtful, small gifts for the fairies in old tree stumps and sunny clearings. She reclines on riverbanks and watches the clouds pass her by, the constant rushing of the water sending a sense of calm spreading from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. 


Gloria is an artist, meaning that she’s always speckled with a confetti of colors. Charcoal smudges between her fingers, clay under her nails, droplets of paint on her overalls, and glitter in her hair. She ties her hair back in a ponytail and stores brushes and pencils behind her ears. She’s usually in her studio, an old garage with large window panes, warmth and light flooding in and casting a soft glow on the place, dust motes floating through the sunbeams. Sometimes she stays in there until the sun lulls her to sleep, her masterpieces keeping a loving watch over her. 

Fern is small and wears striped T-shirts. She wants to be a zoologist so she can revolutionize the industry, creating enclosures that aren’t stifling, providing ample opportunities for stimulation, preserving the animals’ instincts and natural food chains. She spent a summer on safari on the Serengeti, days spent quietly observing the animals and taking detailed notes on their behaviors and quirks, nights spent by the fire, watching the sun sink below the trees, engulfing the savannah in a golden glow, gazing at the sky as the stars made their nightly debut. 

Evelyne is a writer, but she isn’t ready to share her work yet. She’s dreamy and distant, but not cold. She sits under tall trees with her notebook or laptop or whatever scraps of paper she can find and jots down her thoughts and musings and the stories that constantly flow through her mind. It’s said that readers make the best writers, and Evelyne is no exception. When she’s not writing, she has her nose in a book, and she’s never without one. She buys purses large enough to fit books, and she has hipster glasses that forever slip down her nose. When asked about her writing, she blushes and quietly demurs, but she’ll excitedly tell you about the book she’s currently reading. She ties her hair back in braids and has a crooked smile and knows how to make the perfect flower crown. 

Stringbean is tall and willowy and has no sense of danger. Her best friends, Peas and Carrots, always encourage her adventurous spirit, and their recklessness has almost been their downfall on more than one occasion. If it weren’t for the constant support and safety of her sister, Quinn, Stringbean would’ve burned out long ago. She likes rafting and climbing and archery. She’s training to climb Kilimanjaro and then Everest. She wakes up before dawn and runs for miles, her long hair streaming out behind her like ribbons. She’s constantly on the move, but when Quinn needs her, she drops everything for the girl who grounds her. 

Penny Lane is a social butterfly. She needs constant company and craves attention and closeness. She has no sense of personal space or boundaries, and she sits with her arms around friends’ shoulders or her legs draped over theirs. She has three roommates, but that’s not enough. There are always friends staying at her place. Everyone is always welcome to crash on couches or share beds, and some people seem to have taken up a permanent part-time residence there. They never feel like they’re imposing, because the joy that Penny Lane experiences around her friends is palpable. 

Callie could be an Instagram influencer if she cared more about stuff like that. She effortlessly pulls together thrift store outfits and turns them into ensembles that could be on magazine covers. Without watching YouTube tutorials, she somehow has a knack for makeup and can be creative without making her face look like a disaster. She dyes the ends of her long, blonde hair bright pink, and everyone who sees her does an unconscious double take. She’s a free spirit and writes her own songs on her guitar. She plays them at coffee shops and local festivals, but everyone knows it’s only a matter of time before she’s discovered and catapulted out of her small town. 

Juniper has eyes the color of a June sky, and she always wears yellow. Her wavy brown hair always starts off down, but she inevitably pulls it up and out of her face as the day wears on. She has a green thumb and cares for her plants as though they were people. She talks to them and tells them her dreams, hopes, and fears. She believes this is the secret to their thriving, and she may be correct. She’s open and honest and forgiving, and she exudes a sense of peace and home and safety that makes everyone love her. 

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